


More Than Once in A Lifetime

by motherbearof3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Infertility, Marriage, Pregnancy, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:51:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 85,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13184655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherbearof3/pseuds/motherbearof3
Summary: Draco and Hermione play cupid.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is only my second HP fic ever. The plot was suggested by trinkisme on tumblr. I started writing and it just fell together beautifully. Not sure how long this is going to be, but I can't not have a happy ending, so even though there might be some angst in between, it will be a happy ending.
> 
> In my HP universe it's modern day, hence references to things that probably didn't exist when the characters were actually the ages they are here.
> 
> Please let me know what you think and feel free to make suggestions!
> 
> You can visit me on tumblr as motherbearof03.
> 
> One last thing: all these wonderful characters belong to JK Rowling. Only the plot is mine and I write for pleasure, not money.

“Granger, are you asleep?” It was a half whisper.

“Hmmm,” Hermione mumbled, her voice muffled by the blanket and quilt pulled up so high over her shoulder they almost covered her face.

“I said, are you asleep?” Draco pushed himself up on one elbow and leaned over his wife, brushing the curls away from her face and kissing her cheek. Rolling onto her back, she opened her eyes and looked up into his gray ones.

“I was. Almost. Not anymore.” She could tell by the look in his eye he was thinking about something. He had that glint that little boys often got when they were plotting. She traced a finger down his chiseled cheek. “What are you up to?”

“What do you mean? I was just wondering how Potter and James are doing.” He wrapped a finger around one of her curls as he spoke. It was one of his favorite things to do.

“I talked to him, today, actually,” she replied. “They’re doing okay. Best as can be expected, I guess.” Hermione sighed and snuggled closer to her husband, feeling sad for her best friend-come brother.

Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley had gotten married shortly after she finished Hogwarts, as everyone expected, and little James came along soon after. Ginny hadn’t wanted to give up her Quidditch career and returned to playing when James was a few months old. But a freak accident during a game had left her husband a widower and her child motherless at a little more than a year old. There was extensive investigation into the accident and no one was deemed at fault. Of course that didn’t make it any less tragic. James had recently turned two and father and son had gotten back into a somewhat normal rhythm of life. Harry was a top notch auror and James spent his days with his grandparents at the Burrow.

“Do you think Harry’ll ever marry again?” Draco asked, wrapping his arms around her.

“It’s only been a year, Draco!”

“I know, but James doesn’t remember his mother. And a boy needs a mother, Hermione. Look at Potter. He grew up without either parent. Do you think he wants that for James?

Hermione thought on this. It was frighteningly ironic that Harry’s son had lost his mother at almost the same age as he had. Harry had no memories of his parents, save other people’s he’d seen in a pensieve.

“No, I don’t think so. But Ginny was the love of his life, Draco. How can he replace that?”

“I’m not saying replace her. But the heart can love more than once in a lifetime. Look at you. You were with the Weasel. Then you came to your senses and married me.” She could see the smirk on his face by the moonlight that streamed through the window of their bedroom and smacked his bare chest lightly, then soothed it with a kiss.

“True,” she admitted, her fingertips drawing random patterns on his skin. “The marrying part. I don’t know about the coming to my senses. People thought I’d lost them when I accepted your proposal.”

“So anyway, I was thinking we should invite him over for dinner. Without James. Give him an adult night out. And invite a few other friends. Like Blaise and Luna, Neville and Hannah, the Weasel and Lavender, Parkinson. Just a small party. We can have it here. Or at the manor if you prefer. Mother would be more than happy to help you plan it. You know she’s in her glory with menus and seating charts.”

“Draco Malfoy, do you want to set Harry up with Pansy?” Hermione hadn’t missed that the only person he listed that wasn’t part of a couple was Pansy Parkinson. Her husband avoided her eyes and toyed with the strap on her negligee.

She wasn’t that surprised. Pansy had become one of her closest friends other than Ginny. But she had focused on becoming a top fashion designer for both witches and muggle women alike, pushing her personal life to the back burner for the last several years. Pansy had designed Hermione’s wedding dress and made the cover of Witch Weekly with it, much to the bride’s dismay since the editors insisted she be the one to model it for the photograph. In the end, she was quite pleased, though, because the one they used was not any of the posed ones but a candid she didn’t even realize had been taken when Draco walked into the studio and she blew him a kiss across the room.

They had tried introducing Pansy to both wizards and muggle men but she hadn’t hit it off with any of them. Pansy had confided to Hermione recently she was afraid she would end up a spinster witch like Bathillda Bagshot. Maybe a dinner party wasn’t such a bad idea. Draco was right about giving Harry and adult night out. For the last year his life consisted of work and James.

“All right. Let’s have them all for dinner,” she agreed.  “But here. And casual. Nothing fancy.”

Pleased that he’d gotten his way, Draco pulled her so Hermione was on her side again, spooned against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the back of her head.

“Good night, Granger.”

They planned the dinner party for a fortnight, to allow Harry time to get a sitter, even though Hermione knew Molly and Arthur would have taken their grandson the next hour if asked. She sent out owls two days after her and Draco’s late night conversation, emphasizing it was a casual gathering with dinner and some muggle games; her husband’s latest obsession. He had discovered muggle board games like Monopoly and Battleship, occasionally using magic to actually blow up the plastic ships, much to Hermione’s surprise and annoyance. Recently he became fascinated with the card games Uno and Exploding Kittens, where he again, would covertly use magic to cause the cards to explode without warning. For the party, he came home with a new card game called Cards Against Humanity.

“I heard people talking about it when I was getting coffee the other day, Granger. It sounds like a lot of fun,” he told her, even going as far to show her a review of the game from a Muggle magazine that called it ‘an adult, and sometimes highly inappropriate version of the popular game Apples to Apples.’

“We’ve played Apples to Apples and you liked that,” he said, when she looked skeptical.

“I will reserve judgement,” she told him.

****************

After about a week, they had heard back from everyone except the two people for whom the night was planned. Hermione appeared in the doorway of Harry’s office one afternoon, bearing two cups of tea, a treacle tart for him and a blueberry scone for her.

“Time for a break?” she said, holding up the carrier with the drinks in one hand and the bakery bag in the other.

He looked at his watch and sighed. “Is it that late? Yes, actually. I’m starved.”

“You worked through lunch again, didn’t you?” she accused gently, putting everything down on his desk and sitting in the chair opposite him.

Harry removed the lid from his tea and took a long drink, then a bite of the tart before answering.

“I’ve been trying to leave earlier, so I can bathe James and give him dinner instead of Molly doing it every night.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. “So I work through lunch.”

“Why don’t you pack a lunch so you can eat at your desk at least?” Hermione suggested.

“That’s a really good idea,” he said, popping the last of the tart in his mouth. “I’ll try to remember to do that. But you didn’t stop by just to have tea with me, did you?”

“No.” She took a sip of her own tea. “You haven’t responded to my invitation to dinner. Are you coming?”

Harry leaned back in his chair, looking a little more relaxed with some food in his stomach. “Oh, I don’t know, Hermione. I don’t know if I’m up for a dinner party.”

“It’s not a dinner party, Harry. It’s just some friends getting together to have dinner and play some silly muggle games that my husband finds fascinating. He found a new one, by the way. It’s called Cards Against Humanity. Have you heard of it?”

“Actually, I have,” he chuckled. “Leave it to Malfoy to discover that game. Have you played it yet?”

“No. Why?”

“You’ll see.”

“So you’re coming?” she smiled at him.

“Who else is going to be there again?” Harry asked.

“Oh, just Blaise and Luna, Ron and Lavender and Neville and Hannah.”

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his auror robes. “Hermione, you know that means I’ll be the only person there without a partner.”

“Well, actually,” she began.

Across town, Pansy Parkinson was saying the same thing to her former housemate.

“Merlin’s saggy balls, Draco, I’m the only single person you’ve invited!”

They were sitting in her office at her dress shop, the room strewn with bolts of fabric and the walls covered with pieces of parchment with drawings in various stages of completion. Her raven hair was piled atop her head in a messy bun and her fingers were stained by the charcoal pencils she used for her drawings.

Draco smirked at her language. Pansy always had a more colorful vocabulary compared to the other girls at Hogwarts. Pushing back a pile of fabric that threatened to topple onto him from the other side of the couch he was sitting, he hitched the leg of his trousers to cross his legs, an ankle casually resting on his opposite knee.

“Wrong, Parkinson. Potter is coming.”

“Harry’s not single! His wife’s dead.” She stopped when she realized how bad that actually sounded once the words were out of her mouth. “I mean, I’m sure he’s not looking to start dating any time soon.”

“It’s been a year since Ginny died,” Draco reminded her. “James is two now.”

“It doesn’t seem that long already. That poor little boy.” Pansy smiled sadly.

“So you’re coming, then?” He changed the subject back to the reason he’d stopped by to see her. “I found a new game for us to play.” Of all their friends, Pansy had also developed a fondness for Muggle games.

“Really? What?” she asked.

“Huh-uh.” Draco shook his blonde head and stood. As he did, the fabric that had threatened to fall before, collapsed into a bright puddle onto the cushions where he’d been sitting. “You have to come and find out.”

“Fine,” Pansy huffed in mock anger. “Just for the game. And only because I love you.”

“I’m going to tell Granger you said that,” he grinned at her and she flipped him off before blowing him a kiss as he left her office.

Pansy heard him say goodbye to the salesclerks in the store and the bell tinkle on the door as he left. Resting her chin in her hand, she looked at the drawing she’d been working on before Draco darkened her doorway without seeing it. She really was getting tired of being the only one of her friends who was still single. Is that what she got for wanting to to make a name for herself in the fashion industry instead of settling down young? Or was she just undesirable and unlovable?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The friends gather for dinner and play Cards Against Humanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I thought this would be easy to write but I had to educate myself about the card game and decide how the young witches and wizards would react to it. I kept it a little tame the first time, but I feel like if they played it again, it would get more risque and they would modify it to allow for more magical references to make it even funnier for themselves. The end of this chapter gets a little melancholy, but I didn't want to just completely avoid the fact that I killed off Ginny and have Harry jump right into a new relationship. 
> 
> As always, these wonderful characters belong to JKR. I just make up new stories about them.

Hermione stood back and surveyed the combination living/dining area in their spacious flat. The table had been magically enlarged to accommodate ten people and was set for dinner.  She didn’t bother with a seating arrangement, knowing from past experience that the women would all gather at one end and the men at the other. Two lasagnas -- one vegetarian and one with meat -- were in the oven and would be done shortly. Bread was sliced and ready to be warmed and a green salad was waiting in the refrigerator. Bottles of wine, muggle beer, butterbeer and whisky were lined up on the bar, the appropriate kinds of glasses standing by along with a bucket to be filled with ice.

As she was looking and wondering if there was anything else she needed to do, she felt hands slide around her waist. “It looks wonderful,” Draco whispered into her ear.

She leaned against his chest and tipped her head back to kiss the side of his chin, enjoying the feel of the scruff against her lips even though it was so blonde it was barely visible.

“I know. But I always compare my tables to your mother’s. Her parties are so amazing.” Secretly, Hermione hoped one day she could throw a party as grand as the ones Narcissa did. Her husband gave her a squeeze.

“She’s had a lot more practice. Pureblood witches start perfecting their skills with tea parties for their dolls.” He chuckled quietly and she felt the rumble in his chest. “Isn’t it time for the hostess to get dressed?”

Hermione’s eyes flew to the clock above the fireplace and gasped. There was only 30 minutes until their guests were scheduled to arrive. Yanking herself from his embrace she dashed for the bedroom.

Hermione was right. The men sat together at one end of the table and the women at the other. She and Draco were opposite each other at the heads of the table. Luna sat to her right and Hannah to her left. Beside Hannah was Pansy and beside Luna sat Lavender. The way the men seated themselves, Harry ended up sitting next to Pansy. When Draco noticed this, he looked at his wife and winked.

Blaise caught the action and said, “Stop flirting with your wife, Malfoy.”

“Just because your marriage has gone old and boring after a year, Zabini,” Draco shot back.

“Actually ours is far from boring, mate,” grinned Blaise. He looked across the table to his blonde wife. There’s was a match that had surprised everyone. Dreamy, down to earth Luna and the wealthy Slytherin playboy. “Do you want to tell them, love?”

Luna smiled back at him across the table and said in her usual dreamy tone, “We’re having a baby.”

The table erupted in voices as everyone offered their congratulations. Draco fetched a bottle of champagne from the wine cooler and some sparkling cider for the mother-to-be and a toast was made. Then Hermione brought out the main course. The conversation continued to center around the happy news as they ate. Harry had offered his best wishes, but contributed little to the discussion. Pansy noticed he looked a little sad and thought it must be hard for him to hear about such things. She was right. When Luna made her announcement, he was reminded of the day he and Ginny had told everyone they were expecting James. She’d been so happy, and so had he. Now she was gone and he was left alone to raise James by himself.

Hermione noticed as well, and as soon as the plates were cleared for dessert said, “Draco, why don’t you tell everyone about the new game you have for us to play tonight?”

Her husband stood and summoned the box. Then he transfigured the rectangular table into a round one and his friends adjusted their chairs. Harry bumped into Pansy as he moved his.

“Oh, sorry, Pansy,” he apologized, then stood to help with her chair. As he moved behind her, she caught a whiff of his cologne, a pleasing mixture that was spicy and masculine, but not overpowering.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, feeling guilty for liking the way a man whose wife had died smelled.

“Okay, everyone,” Draco raised his voice. “This game is called Cards Against Humanity. It’s a muggle game I overheard people talking about in a coffee shop a few weeks ago.”

“It sounds really odd, Malfoy. Why would they call it that?” asked Ron, talking around a bite of one of the tarts offered for dessert.

“I don’t know, Weasley. Let me tell you what the rules say and then we can give it a go.” Draco held up a piece of paper and began to read.

“To start the game, each player draws ten white cards.” He waved his wand and each person around the table was dealt ten white cards from the box and then placed a stack of black cards in the middle of the table, face down.

“Now it says….oh.” He stopped, an uncomfortable look on his face.

“It says what, Draco?” asked Lavender, putting another tart on Ron’s plate and pouring him more coffee.

Draco cleared his throat and read quickly, “It says, ‘The person who most recently pooped begins as the Card Czar and plays a black card. The Card Czar reads the question or fill-in-the-blank phrase on the black card out loud.’

His ears had gone pink. He picked up his glass of whisky and took a drink before continuing more slowly.

“Then, everyone else answers the question or fills in the blank by passing one white card, face down, to the Card Czar. The Card Czar shuffles all of the answers and shares each card combination with the group. For full effect, the Card Czar should usually re-read the black card before presenting each answer. The Card Czar then picks the funniest play, and whoever submitted it gets one Awesome Point. After the round, a new player becomes the Card Czar, and everyone draws back up to ten white cards.”

When he finished, he was met with a circle of people trying not to smile. Everyone except Hermione. She was grinning widely at her husband’s pureblood discomfort at saying the word “poop”. After a moment, Luna spoke up in her usual forthright manner,

“Well, becoming pregnant has made me quite regular, so I’ll say I’m probably the person who has most recently pooped and that makes me the Card Czar.”  

Then she summoned a black card from the pile and continued, “The first black card says, ‘ _What gets better with age?_ ’

“Now we all pick an answer from our white cards and give them to Luna, face down, right?” asked Neville.

“Yes,” replied Draco. They all looked at the white cards in their hands and one by one, slid a card, face down, across the table to Luna. “Luna, now you read out each answer with the question and then pick the best one.”

The group laughed as she read the different answers which included things like _“a zesty breakfast burrito”_ (obviously Ron’s) and _“Sean Connery”_ (Hermione’s because she was the only one who knew the muggle actor) but it was clear what was going on in the Zabini household at least in the last months when she read her winning choice: _“the female orgasm”_.

It was a silly game, but it kept the atmosphere light for the evening as they went through additional black cards with statements like:

 

_“I get by with a little help from __________________”_

 

which Neville chose the winning answer of Harry’s write in of _“gillyweed”_ and

 

_“_____________. Awesome in theory. Kind of a mess in practice.”_

 

That won with Hermione’s submission of _“time travel”_ , launching the story of her use of the time turner, which half of the guests had never heard.

By the end of the evening, everyone was tired from laughing and agreed it was one of Draco’s better muggle game discoveries. The women made plans to meet and talk about both a baby shower for Luna and Lavender’s wedding gown that Pansy was designing. Harry was the last person to leave, lingering for a moment to talk to his best friend and her husband. After Neville and Hannah had flooed away in a cloud of green smoke, he turned to the two of them.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you two are up to,” he said. “You sat me beside Pansy and she was the only other single person here tonight.”

“Harry, I did not!” Hermione denied. “There were no place cards. If you happened beside Pansy, it wasn’t set up that way.”

“Okay. I just -- well, it kind of felt like you were trying to put us together. And while I appreciate it, I don’t know if I’m ready for that. If I’ll ever be ready for that,” he told them with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, Potter,” Draco said honestly, because he never intended for Harry to feel pressured to forget Ginny. “We just thought you would enjoy a little adults only night out. You know. No nappies to change. People to talk to who speak in more than three word sentences.” He smirked.

“I know, Malfoy. And I do appreciate it. It was fun to be around my friends. And you never cease to surprise with your choice of entertainment. Thank you.” He shook Draco’s hand and gave Hermione a hug.

She returned the embrace and kissed him on the cheek. “Give that to James for me,” she said.

When Harry got home and Molly and Arthur had gone, he went into James’ room and sat down in the rocking chair. The rocking chair that Ginny sat in before he was born, waving her wand around the room as she decorated the walls and charmed the ceiling to glow like the night sky outside, much like the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. The one she sat in after he was born, cradling him in her arms and rocking him to sleep night after night, singing the lullabies her mother had sung to her. The same one Harry sat in the day they told him about Ginny’s accident and that there was nothing magical or muggle medicine could have done to save her, rocking their now motherless son and crying tears onto his soft hair.

Now he sat there again, watching him sleep in his crib and wondering if could do this by himself. If he could raise his son without a mother. He had been raised without one. Petunia Dursley was barely his aunt on her good days. She had never been like a mother to him. He’d had no kisses on skinned knees, cool hands on fevered brows, or gentle arms to hold him. He didn’t want that for James. Harry had loved Ginny almost from the first time he saw her at the Burrow, even though he didn’t know at that age what love was. She had waited for him, even when he denied his love for her to try and keep her safe from Voldemort. When it was all over, and they were finally able to be together, he thought his heart would burst with happiness. Now she was gone and that happiness was gone. But his son; their son, was still here and he deserved to grow up with a mother. Harry went to bed that night wondering if he could love again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta give credit to the people who created Cards Against Humanity. The rules are straight from the website, as are the black card questions and some of the white card answers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crookshanks helps with the matchmaking and Pansy meets James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! I've never done that before! But this chapter was actually written before chapter two and was easier for me to write. I am having sooo much fun writing James! Enjoy!
> 
> As always, the characters are JKR's and I make no money from this.

Stepping out of the fireplace in Draco and Hermione’s flat a few weeks later and brushing some errant ashes from her clothes, Pansy muttered, “They couldn’t magic up a way to feed the damn cat?”

The couple had gone away for a few days and asked her to come feed Crookshanks; Hermione’s cat from their Hogwarts days. Pansy couldn’t believe the raggedy looking thing was still alive. She liked cats and even had one of her own. But hers was a sleek, smooth haired one with dark grey fur and green eyes.

“Okay, cat. Dinner time,” she called, walking into the kitchen. 

As she was opening the can of cat food, she heard the distinctive sound of the floo in the other room. Who else would be coming to her friend’s flat? Ever cautious, she drew her wand and walked quietly to peer around the wall. Her eyes widened when she saw Harry Potter stepping out of the fireplace holding his son. Forgetting she still held her wand in a defensive position, she stepped into the doorway.

“Harry? What are you doing here?” she exclaimed.

His head whipped around and when he saw a wand pointed at him and James, slid the boy to the floor behind his legs and quickly drew his own before he processed who the person was speaking. Pansy lowered her wand, realizing he had shifted into auror mode without thinking and spoke again, more softly, not wanting to frighten the little boy who was peering out from behind his father’s legs.

“Harry. It’s me, Pansy.” She slid her wand back into her sleeve and held up both hands, palms facing him. “Draco and Hermione asked me to come feed Crookshanks while they’re away.”

His body relaxed as his brain recognized the witch standing there and he lowered and re-sleeved his wand as well.

“Pansy,” he echoed her name. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to feed the cat,” she repeated. “Crookshanks.”

At the sound of his name said a second time, the feline in question sauntered into the room, swishing his tail as if to say, “You called?”

“Kitty!” James stepped from behind Harry and walked toward the cat, his small hands outstretched. “Kitty!”

The orange cat with the squashed looking face leisurely made his way to the child and allowed him to sink his fingers into his fur. 

“I guess they’ve met,” Pansy chuckled, watching James plop onto the carpet and pet the cat who lay down and offered up his belly for scratching. 

She looked at the child, whom she hadn’t really seen since he was an infant and realized he wasn’t the mini Harry everyone expected. His hair was dark but her eye that was trained to notice subtle differences in color saw it wasn’t black like his fathers. It had strands of auburn woven in, a clear indication of his Weasley heritage.

“James loves him. I figured that’s why Hermione asked us to come feed him while they’re away,” Harry said, looking fondly at his son. “I keep waiting for her to buy him a kitten of his own.”

“Kitty eat,” said the boy, looking up at his father and Pansy noticed that his eyes were dark hazel, a near perfect combination of his parents’ green and brown. A lump formed in her throat at the thought of Ginny not getting to see her son grow up. She swallowed it away and spoke to the child.

“I have his food ready in the kitchen. James, do you want to help me put it in the kitty’s bowl?”

“Kitty eat.” He pushed himself to his feet and set off toward the kitchen, clearly understanding.

“He knows his way around the flat, too,” said Harry dryly as they followed the toddler.

In the kitchen, he pushed a chair to the counter and helped James climb up to stand where Pansy had the food and the bowl. The child picked up the can of food and turned it upside down over the bowl. Nothing came out. He gave it a little shake. The food made a slight sucking sound as it moved in the can, but remained inside. He frowned and looked at his father.

“Kitty food stuck.” Then he looked at Pansy. “Help.”

Being the only child of two only children, Pansy had little experience with babies and toddlers. Their tendencies toward messes and inability to communicate intimidated her. Harry and Ginny had been the first of her Hogwarts friends to have a child. She froze at the child’s request. Harry opened a drawer and removed a spoon. Holding the can with one hand, he helped James use the spoon to extricate the gelatinous animal food from the can and into the bowl. Then he lifted the boy from the chair and handed him the bowl to place on the floor for the cat.

“Here, kitty. Come eat,” James called and Crookshanks again appeared as if by magic and tucked into his food while the child petted his back.

The two adults watched in silence for a while before a thought struck Harry.

“You said Draco asked you to come feed Crookshanks?” She nodded. “Hermione asked me the same thing. Why would they ask both of us to do it?”

“I don’t know,” Pansy shrugged.

Harry kept silent, wondering if this was another of their friends’ attempt at playing cupid.

Meanwhile, Hermione and Draco were snuggled up on a couch in the library at Malfoy Manor, watching what had been happening at their flat via several hidden cameras charmed to send the images and sound to a muggle television. At first, Hermione was reluctant to spy on their friends, feeling bad enough they fabricated an out of town trip to get them both to go to the flat. But a few kisses from Draco and the reminder that they might not even end up there at the same time convinced her it wouldn’t hurt to watch a little. They were both surprised to see Pansy pull her wand, but less shocked to see Harry become a protective father and auror until he realized there was no threat.

“Awww, look at Crooks with James!” cooed Hermione. “Harry’s right. James needs a kitten.”

“The look on Pansy’s face when James asked her to help him was priceless!” said Draco with a smirk.

“Oh, please,” retorted his wife, elbowing him in the ribs. “The only child you’ve even been around is James, and even then not that much. I think we should offer to babysit so you can practice changing nappies. You know, filled with poop!” She erupted into giggles, remembering his reluctance to say the word when they were playing Cards Against Humanity.

Back at their flat, Harry was preparing to leave with James protesting, because the toddler wanted to stay and play with Crookshanks. 

“It was nice seeing you again,” he told Pansy, holding the squirming two year old. “James, be still. It’s time to go home for a nap. The kitty is going to have a nap too.”

“No nap!” James declared, kicking his feet.

Pansy stepped closer and put a hand on the boy’s arm. “James,” she said. “You need to mind your Dad and go home for a nap. But maybe one day you can come and meet my kitty.”

At the word ‘kitty’ the boy stilled and looked at Pansy with interest. “Kitty? Your kitty?”

“Yes, my kitty. His name is Versace. He’s not as fluffy as Crookshanks, but he’s just as soft. But you have to be a good boy and go home and have your nap today.”

James looked at Harry and nodded. “Nap. See kitty.”

“Yes, if you’re a good boy and have your nap we can go see Pansy’s kitty another day.” Harry shifted the boy more comfortably onto his hip. “Thank you,” he said to Pansy.

“You’re welcome.” She met his gaze and he realized that the color he’d always thought the raven haired woman’s eyes were was wrong. They were a dark purple blue. The color of pansies.

“Um, can you feed Crookshanks tomorrow and we’ll take the next? I have wall to wall briefings tomorrow and James will be with Molly and Arthur,” he asked, wondering if she had been so named because of the color of her eyes.

“Sure. I’ll owl you about bringing James to see Versace,” she replied, and placed a hand on the boy’s soft hair. “‘Bye, James. It was nice to meet you.”

“Bye.” He opened and closed his small hand at her in a wave.

Harry and James stepped into the fireplace and disappeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving Pansy standing there wondering what she needed to do to make her flat more babyproof before the pair came to visit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and James go to meet Versace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember a whole lot about Pansy from the books and she doesn't have very big parts in the movies, so most of what is in this is my head canon, but it makes sense to me. 
> 
> Our matchmakers don't make an appearance in this chapter, but they'll be back in the next.
> 
> As always, these lovely characters belong to JKR. I'm just having fun with them.

Pansy sat at her desk, charcoal pencil in hand, working on a new design. Well, she was supposed to be working on a new design. The Ministry for Magic had put out a request for bids for a new design for their Auror robes. The current uniform hadn’t been updated in nearly a hundred years and when she saw the announcement, she decided to submit a proposal. But what started out as a drawing of a man in Auror robes had turned into a man in Auror robes wearing glasses and holding a little boy on his hip. It had been more than a week since her encounter with Harry and James at Draco and Hermione’s flat and she hadn’t yet sent the owl inviting them to meet her cat, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the pair.

Harry was clearly a loving father who put his son first. The speed and intensity with which he defended his him from a potential threat without even thinking had astonished her and made her wonder if that was a result of his Auror training, his experiences during the war or the fact that James was all he had. She knew the stories about his own parents and how he was raised by his aunt and uncle before going to Hogwarts. So she also knew that when he’d married Ginny and had James he finally had a family of his own. Now it was just James. The two times she had seen him recently, he looked tired. It probably wasn’t easy working all day and then dealing with a toddler in the evenings. A toddler who was incredibly adorable. She really needed to send that owl, Pansy thought, looking at the drawing in front of her.

The bell jingled out in the shop indicating the arrival of a customer. Her first appointment of the day was a fitting appointment for a witch. Magical dressmakers used their wands to transfigure a piece of clothing to fit it to the wearer, but Pansy preferred the muggle way of using her hands and pinning it. She enjoyed the feel of the fabric under her hands. Once the adjustments were pinned, she used magic to make the changes permanent. Doing it this way also allowed her to have muggle customers come into her shop which had two entrances: one from the muggle side of London and one from Diagon Alley.

After the fitting, Pansy had two more appointments that day; both muggle brides there for design consultations. The first knew exactly what she wanted and was happy with the first set of sketches Pansy roughed out for her. The second however, couldn’t make up her mind and Pansy had to return to her office for more parchment to start new sketches. As she moved things around on her desk, the drawing of Harry and James she’d done that morning slid to the floor. Picking it up, she told herself she would send that owl as soon as the current bride left. It was well past tea and almost dinner when the indecisive bride left and Pansy was able to lock up her office and go home to her flat above the shop.

That evening at home, she composed and discarded three attempts at a message, before finally deeming one acceptable to send and attaching it to the leg of her owl who had been waiting patiently. Once the bird had flown away, she turned to Versace who sat on the edge of her desk.

“Why was that so hard? What is so difficult about inviting a little boy over to meet you?” she said to the cat. “But if they decide to do this, you need to mind your manners. No running away and no claws.”

Versace blinked his green eyes at her in reply.

She went into her small kitchen and opened the refrigerator in search of something to eat. Pansy didn’t cook often and when she did, it was very basic things: soup, salads, sandwiches. She could manage a roast with potatoes and vegetables and occasionally made that to give herself leftovers for a few days. But right now she didn’t have any. So it looked like dinner was tinned soup and a sandwich. She huffed a small sigh. At least she had ice cream in the freezer.

She had just settled down on the couch with said ice cream and a book of fabric swatches to choose some colors to show Lavender for her bridesmaids’ dresses -- variations on purple of course -- when she heard a tap at the window and Versace meowed to let her know her owl was back. Opening the window to admit the bird, she untied the message from her leg and offered a treat. The owl flew to her perch, fluffed her feathers for the night and closed her eyes; having done her job. Pansy had butterflies in her stomach as she untied the parchment. _You’re being a ninny!_ she mentally chided herself and read the message written in an untidy masculine hand:

**_Dear Pansy,_ **

**_I’m glad to hear from you. James has been asking when he was going to get to meet the “other kitty”. I need to take him to Diagon Alley on Saturday for some clothes and shoes. He’s growing out of everything he has. Would it be all right if we stopped by before or after our shopping? Where do you live?_ **

**_Yours,  
_** **_Harry_ **

She smiled at the familiar closing, even though she knew it didn’t mean anything more than “sincerely”. Saturday was two days away. She looked around her flat. Other than books of fabric swatches and a few sketch parchments, it was tidy and clean. Saturday would do. Carrying the message to her desk, she composed a reply.

**_Harry,_ **

**_Saturday would be lovely. I’ll be home all day. I live above my shop in Diagon Alley. The door is to the right of the shop door, but it’s a lot of stairs for James’ little legs. I’ll modify my wards so you can floo in if you want. Versace and I look forward to seeing you both._ **

**_Pansy_ **

Her owl wasn’t amused at being awakened and nipped at Pansy’s finger as she tied on her reply, but flew obediently out the window. At his home in Godric’s Hollow, Harry read Pansy’s reply and looked at James, who sat on his lap in his pajamas, ready for bed.

“Well, it looks like you and I have a date on Saturday, James,” he said with a smile.

“Date!” repeated the boy, bouncing on his legs and clapping his hands.

Saturday came quickly for both Pansy and Harry. She was up early, making tea and tidying up her flat; making sure thing like her sewing basket with scissors and pins was up on a shelf. Then she showered and dressed in a pair of jeans and a blouse, leaving her hair hanging loose about her shoulders.

It took the father and son a little longer to get ready for the day. James liked to feed himself, but hadn’t quite mastered getting porridge into his mouth with a spoon. So Harry fed him, while James picked up pieces of banana with his fingers. Once he was fed and face and hands cleaned with a quick wave of his wand, Harry took James in his bedroom with him while he got dressed. Normally he chose a shirt without thought, but today he looked at the choices a little longer and made sure his hair, which still leaned toward being unruly at twenty-five, was laying flat.

“I guess that’s as good as it’s going to get, James. Are you ready to meet Pansy’s kitty?” He picked the boy up from the floor where he was playing with blocks and tossed him over his head, making him giggle.

“Pans kitty!”

Harry didn’t feel comfortable flooing directly into Pansy’s apartment on a first visit, so he and James made their way to Diagon Alley and walked until they came to her dress shop, called Swatches of Silk. As she said, there was a plain wooden door to the right of the larger, glass door, adorned with flowers that he assumed were pansies. Putting James on his back to carry him piggy-back style, he opened the door and started up the narrow stairs. After the third flight, he was grateful being an Auror kept him in good physical condition. At the top of the fourth there was another door, and he paused a moment to catch his breath briefly before knocking. It opened almost immediately, as if she’d been waiting on the other side and they looked at each other for a long moment.

Harry was dressed more casually than he had been at Draco and Hermione’s, in jeans and a collarless pullover shirt, the buttons undone at his neck and a muggle style leather jacket. His arms were bent behind his back supporting James and pulled the knit fabric of his shirt over the toned muscles of his chest. Pansy looked away before he caught her staring. Harry didn’t notice as he was doing a little staring of his own. Muggle skinny jeans hugged Pansy’s hips and legs and were tucked into a pair of tall boots. Into the jeans was tucked a silky blouse in a dark blue that brought out the blue tones in her shiny ebony hair. James broke the silence

“Hi!” he chirped, his little hands still clasped tightly around his father’s neck.

“Hello, James,” said Pansy.  “Hello, Harry.” She took in his breathing, which was become regular. “I told you it was a lot of stairs. Please come in.”

“Hi, Pansy. Yes, next time we’ll use the floo.”

He walked through the door into her flat as she stepped back, and slid James to the floor. A little voice in his head said, _Next time, Potter? You’re planning on coming back?_ But before he could reflect on that thought, James spotted the cat and exclaimed,

“KITTY!”

Versace had come into the living area when he heard the visitors arrive, his feline curiosity piqued at the sound of new voices. He jumped lithely up onto the arm of the sofa and sat, looking unblinking at the small human who had spoken. Pansy wasn’t sure what Versace’s reaction would be to James, so she picked up the cat and sat down on the couch, holding him on her lap.

“Slowly, James. Don’t scare the kitty,” his father warned, and the toddler took a step toward Pansy and the cat. Then another, until he was standing within arms’ reach.

“Kitty,” he said. Pansy smoothed her hand down the cat’s head and back.

“His name is Versace,” she told the boy.

“V’sachy,” James repeated, making the adults chuckle.

“Close enough,” said Harry.

The two year old reached out a tentative hand and touched the cat’s silky grey fur.

“Soft,” he said.

Versace didn’t move as the child repeated the action. On the third touch, Pansy felt the cat begin to purr.

“Why don’t you come sit up here, James?” Pansy patted the cushion beside her and the boy clambered up, sitting with his short legs outstretched. She stood and put the cat down beside him and the child continued stroking his fur.

Looking at Harry, she said, “They seem to have made friends. Would you like some tea?”

“Sure. Another cup would be good. Mine got cold this morning trying to get James fed.”

Pansy went to the kitchen and flicked her wand at the kettle and removed two mugs from a cupboard. A moment later the kettle whistled and she flicked her wand again to silence it. Pouring water into the two mugs, she carried them to her small dining table along with a basket of tea bags. Harry waited until she sat down to seat himself. After she chose one and put it in her mug, he chose one for himself.

“Milk or sugar?” she asked.

“Neither, thanks.”

They sipped their tea in silence for a moment, watching James and Versace. The cat had decided James’ attention was more than acceptable, and had now curled up on his lap purring contentedly while the boy continued stroking his back.

“Want to come with us?” Harry blurted suddenly. “Shopping?”

He had never taken James shopping by himself; it had either been he and Ginny together or she had done it alone. Since she died, any new things had been purchased by Molly Weasley or were gifts. He didn’t even know what size his son wore or what stores in Diagon Alley sold children’s clothes. All he knew was daily James told him his shoes were “pinchy” and his little trousers were too short in the legs. He wasn’t sure what prompted him to extend the invitation to accompany them, but part of him was hoping she would say yes.

“Sorry,” he continued, when she didn’t reply. “I know you probably have other things to do. Shopping for little boy’s clothes and shoes isn’t very exciting.” He gave her a wry smile.

“Actually, I don’t. I have to choose some fabric swatches to show Lavender for bridesmaids’ dresses but other than that, nothing.” Pansy smiled back. “Clothes is what I do for a living, remember? I find them very exciting.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping with Harry, Pansy and James; a meltdown and a surprising discovery and then a crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly made myself cry writing this. All the feels. Sorry for the length, but I just couldn't stop!

 

Shopping with a two-year-old was a new experience for Pansy, but it was shopping nonetheless and something that was as familiar to her as breathing. Even though she didn’t design children’s clothes, she knew which stores in Diagon Alley sold them and led Harry and James to the ones with the best quality and selection. Quickly realizing that having the toddler try on possible choices wasn’t an option, she took some measurements with her wand in order to know the correct size for trousers and shirts.

Harry was impressed at the depth of knowledge Pansy had for clothing and realized he didn’t know her well at all. They definitely hadn't been friends at Hogwarts her being a Slytherin and pureblood; two things which, at the time, made her automatically dislike him without considering otherwise. They’d become acquaintances when the dust settled after the war as they all became adults; realizing that they had more in common than not. First and foremost was the relationship of their best friends, Hermione and Draco. Neither Pansy nor Harry had been supportive of that pairing at first. After all, everyone had expected Ron and Hermione to end up together; just as Harry and Ginny had. But the longer Hermione and Draco’s relationship went on, the more everyone realized they were well matched and both stood up beside them when they married less than a year ago.

Harry leaned against a shelf in the second store they’d entered, watching the witch show James little pairs of shoes, getting his opinion on the color of trainers he preferred. When he chose the red ones, she plucked one out of the box and slipped it on his little socked foot, tying it securely, before reaching for its mate. As she did, she caught Harry watching her out of the corner of her eye and wondered what he was thinking. She turned her head to return his gaze and as she did, James kicked his feet impatiently, the toe of the shoe she’d just tied hitting her squarely in the temple.

“Oh!” she cried, falling back and landing on her backside on the floor in front of the chair where the boy sat.

“Pansy!” Harry dropped the shopping bags he’d been holding and crouched beside her. “Are you alright?”

She was holding her head and, to his astonishment, laughing. “I’m fine. Just caught me by surprise is all,” Pansy told him. She looked at the little boy, who was looking at her wide eyed. “It’s okay, James. You didn’t hurt me.” She patted his leg. “While I’m down here, let’s put on the other shoe and you can take a little walk in them to see how they feel.”

Once the shoe was tied, he moved to slide off the chair, but was stopped by his father.

“James, you need to apologize to Pansy for kicking her.”

“Sow-wy,” he said, his R’s coming out as W’s.

“Apology accepted, James. It was an accident,” she replied. “Now hop down and see how those feel. There’s a mirror over there, you can see how they look too.”

  
The child got down from the chair and ran to the wall mirror, admiring the red shoes on his feet. Harry turned to Pansy and extended his hand to help her up from where she still sat on the floor. She took it and he easily pulled her to standing position in front of him, their bodies nearly touching.

“Thanks,” she said, her hand lingering in his for a moment before he let go when James came running back.

“Daddy!”

“How are those shoes, James?” Harry asked.

“Potty, Daddy!”

“Oh. Okay. Let’s find the loo, then.” He scooped up the toddler and turned to Pansy. “I don’t suppose you know -- “

“Back there,” she pointed in the direction of the restrooms they’d passed on their way to the shoe department.

While they made their way to the men’s room, she put the old shoes in the box, figuring he would want to wear the new ones and gathered up the bags Harry dropped when James accidentally kicked her. She put her hand to her temple. It hadn’t hurt at the time, but now it was a little tender. The look of concern on Harry’s face had surprised her. She supposed it might remind him of Ginny’s accident. She hadn’t been at the game, but heard about it from Draco and Hermione.

“Made it just in time!” said Harry when they returned a few minutes later.

“What a big boy you are,” Pansy said to James, picking him up and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Big boy!” he agreed, giggling.

They paid for the shoes, and as Pansy expected, James wanted to wear the new ones. After stopping for a snack, they continued on to two more stores, before Harry finally declared James had so many new clothes he’d need to put an extendable charm on his dresser. He hadn’t been sure what it would be like, shopping with Pansy, as they’d never spent any time alone before but Harry found he’d enjoyed her presence. James was comfortable with her, content to hold her hand as well as Harry’s when the boy insisted on walking rather than ride in the stroller.

He knew his son had to be getting hungry so Harry invited Pansy to join them for an early dinner. She happily accepted, having enjoyed her day with the father and son. James was a likable child, and Harry easy to talk to. The wait for a table at the small child friendly restaurant Harry chose in Diagon Alley was unusually long even at the early hour. At first James was content to sit on his father’s shoulders because it gave him an owl’s eye view. But he soon tired of that. Harry removed the boy and held him in his arms.

“Down!” James demanded, wriggling like a flobberworm. “Down!”

“James, there really isn’t the room,” Harry said. “It won’t be long now. I know you’re hungry.”

The toddler went limp in his father’s arms, trying to slide to the ground, making him difficult to hold. “Down! Down!” His cries were getting louder. Other diners who were waiting gave Harry and Pansy sympathetic glances.

“Okay, James. I’ll put you down, but you must hold my hand.” Harry said. He put the boy down; whereupon the child collapsed into a sitting position on the floor. “Stand up, James. Please. You can’t sit on the floor.”

“I’m hungry!” James declared loudly. Pansy crouched beside him.

“I’m hungry too, James. It won’t be long now. What would you like to eat? Can you stand up and tell me?” She spoke softly, hoping he would lower his voice as well. It didn’t work. If anything, he got a little louder. But at least he got back to his feet.

“Noodles! Want noodles!”

A grandmotherly looking witch standing nearby smiled at him and said, “Young man, your mama and daddy will get you some noodles as soon as they can. In the meantime, would you like some ginger newts?” She held out a small package of the salamander-shaped biscuits.

“Oh, thank you,” said Harry, accepting the package, opening it and offering one to James who took it eagerly and put it in his mouth. “I’m sorry if he was disturbing you.”

“Not at all,” she replied. “It’s hard for them to wait. Couldn’t get a sitter?”

“Pardon?” said Pansy.

“For Valentine’s Day. Too bad you had to bring your little one along,” said the witch.

 _Valentine’s Day!_ Pansy looked around and realized the restaurant had red hearts floating around in the air and each table was decorated with a heart-shaped candle. Then she looked at Harry who had the same shocked look on his face. _Merlin’s beard she thinks we’re married!_ She thought.

“No, erm, I mean we’re not -- “ she started to say when the hostess witch approached and said their table was ready.

Harry picked James up and said, “Thanks again for the ginger newts,” before striding swiftly to their table, Pansy hurrying along behind.

Once James was seated in a highchair, he happily continued to eat the ginger newts, oblivious to the adults’ discomfiture. Harry turned to Pansy.

“I didn’t know it was Valentine’s Day, did you?” he asked.

“I haven’t had a reason to -- I mean, no; no, I didn’t,” the witch replied, a blush staining her cheeks. Harry didn’t need to know she hadn’t anyone to celebrate the lover’s holiday with in a very long time.

However, Pansy wasn’t surprised to know he hadn’t paid attention to the date either. She imagined holidays were difficult since Ginny died. Before the uncomfortable conversation could continue, James slapped his hands down on the high chair tray, scattering any newts that remained and declared, “Noodles! Noodles please!” as the serving wizard appeared at their table.

“I guess this young man wants noodles,” he laughed. “What can I get you two?”

Despite how it initially started, Harry, Pansy and James had an enjoyable meal together. Once he’d eaten most of his noodles, the toddler’s eyes started getting heavy. He looked at Pansy.

“Up?” he asked. She assumed he wanted out of the chair and on her lap, but she was surprised at the request. Harry stood to take him from the chair.

“You can sit on my lap, James.”

“No,” he whined, holding his arms out to her. “Pans.”

“It’s okay, Harry. I’ll hold him,” she said, and pushed her chair back from the table a little so Harry could put the boy on her lap. She held him securely with one hand, while she finished her meal with the other. His little body was warm against hers and he smelled of baby soap. She could feel him relaxing against her.

Harry watched as his son snuggled his head against Pansy and closed his eyes. For someone who had little experience with children, she appeared to be perfectly comfortable holding him. Then his breath caught in his throat when the baby reached out a hand and toyed with a piece of her hair that hung over her shoulder. James had done that with Ginny’s hair from the time he was an infant at her breast. He took a sip of coffee to try and clear the lump that had formed in his throat.

“I think he’s asleep,” Pansy said softly, running her hand gently across James’ hair.

“He is,” replied Harry.

She looked up from the child and as she met Harry’s eyes saw a tinge of sadness in them and realized with a pang that her holding his son must have reminded him of Ginny.

“Shopping is hard work,” she lightly, smiling at him. He smiled back and cleared his throat.

“We’ll walk you home.”

“No need, Harry. Get James home to bed.” She reached for the boy’s coat, wondering how one dressed a sleeping child. “I can see myself home.”

“Absolutely not, Pansy.” She couldn’t help but grin. “What?”

“No need to use your Auror voice, Harry,” she told him. “You can walk me home but then please use my floo since James is asleep.”

“All right,” he agreed, putting some Galleons on the table to cover the bill. “Here, let me help you with his coat.”

The young father slipped his son’s jacket on with experienced ease while Pansy held him. After enlarging the stroller he’d shrunk when they got to the restaurant he put the sleeping child in it. Then he held her coat for her. Her raven hair caught inside the collar. Instinctively, as he used to do for Ginny, he put his hands underneath to pull it out. It felt silky and light compared to the heavy softness of the redhead’s hair. As Harry freed her hair, his fingertips brushed the back of her neck raising goosebumps and causing her to shiver slightly. When he realized what he’d done, he stepped away and occupied himself with the zipper on his own coat, not looking at Pansy. It was a short walk back to her shop and flat above.

“Can you hold him again while I shrink the stroller?” Harry asked, picking up James, who sighed a bit but didn’t wake.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, taking the boy from her and tucking his head against her shoulder. In a flash the stroller was smaller and in Harry’s coat pocket with all the shopping bags and he took his son back into his arms.

They climbed the stairs slowly and in silence. After Pansy unlocked the door, and they went inside, Harry said, “Thank you for coming with us today. You were a big help choosing clothes. I wasn’t sure where to start and I didn’t want to have to tell that to Molly.” He smiled ruefully.

“You’re welcome. Glad I could help. I had a good time.”  She put a hand on James’ back and leaned in to kiss his chubby cheek. Then she went up on tiptoe to press a brief one on Harry’s as well, feeling his five o’clock shadow stubble against her lips. “Best Valentine’s Day I’ve had in awhile.”

Their eyes met and Pansy had a sudden urge to kiss him again. This time on the lips. But she stepped back and said, “Shall I toss the powder for you?”

“Please, “ Harry replied moving into the fireplace, stating, “the Potter home,” as she threw a handful of floo powder at his feet and they were gone in a cloud of green smoke.

“Wow,” she said to herself as the smoke cleared. “What was that?”

“Mrow,” replied Versace sauntering into the room.

“Versace,” she said, bending over to pick up the cat and snuggling him close. She’d held her cat hundreds of time and honestly never thought holding a child would feel differently. But when James was on her lap, warm and sweet smelling, she had experienced a wave of maternal longing toward the motherless child.

The cat jumped from her arms and walked to his bowl, clearly requesting it to be filled. She waved her wand absently and dry food appeared. She was still thinking about what had happened as the pair was leaving. She’d kissed Harry on the cheek before since they’d become friends. So why did she want to kiss him again? On the mouth?

Picking up some more floo powder she stuck her head into the fireplace, dropped it and called, “Hermione?” But she got no answer. Then she remembered: it was Valentine’s Day. Knowing Draco, he had probably whisked his witch away to somewhere romantic like Venice or Paris. She sighed. She’d have to wait until tomorrow to talk to her about everything that happened today. It was still early. Might as well get some work done. She still needed to choose those swatches to show Lavender when she came for a fitting the following week as well as work up some sketches for the bridesmaids dresses.

Pansy went into her bedroom and traded her jeans and blouse for a pair of comfortable leggings and an oversized jumper. Pulling her hair up on top of her head, she returned to the living room, barefoot. She was at her desk and had just started on a sketch when she heard her name being called. Turning, she saw Harry’s face in her fireplace.

“Pansy? Are you home?”

She got up and walked over to the fireplace, dropping to her knees. “Yes, I’m here. Is something wrong?” He sounded slightly panicked.

“James’ dragon. I can’t find it anywhere!”

“His dragon?” Pansy didn’t remember them mentioning anything about a dragon that day.

“It’s a stuffed dragon. Hagrid gave it to him when he was a baby. He sleeps with it. I think it was in the stroller. It must have fallen out when I cast the shrinking spell at your place to put it in my pocket. Can you go look? He woke up wanting Norbert and now he won’t go back to sleep.”

In the background, she could hear James crying hysterically. It broke her heart.

“Yes, of course I’ll go look.”

She stood up from the fireplace and found some shoes. Then she left her flat and started down the stairs, her wand illuminated, looking carefully for a miniaturized stuffed dragon. By the time she reached the bottom of all four flights, she had seen nothing. Then she remembered that Harry had shrunk the stroller outside on the sidewalk. She opened the door to the outside, and a blast of cold February night air hit her, reminding her she wasn’t wearing a coat. She didn’t see anything on the sidewalk. How was she going to find it if it was even out there somewhere? Then it dawned on her: a summoning spell!

“Accio stuffed dragon!” Nothing happened. What did Harry say it was called? She tried again. “Accio Norbert!”

Something that looked like a piece of fluff came flying toward her. Reaching out her hand, she grasped it. In her palm was a tiny stuffed dragon. Casting the spell to return it to its regular size, she ran back inside and up the stairs. Inside her apartment, she called, “Harry? Are you still there? I found it! I’ll be right there!”

Without waiting for a reply, she stepped into the fireplace clutching the dragon. Grabbing a handful of floo powder she called “the Potter home”. When she opened her eyes, she was looking at Harry, hair standing on end from running his hands through it in frustration, holding James, whose face was tear-stained and red from crying. He was heaving great, hiccoughing sobs. But when he saw Pansy holding his beloved dragon, he cried out, “Norbert!” and threw himself out of his father’s arms at her. She quickly stepped forward and caught him before he fell, but his weight and momentum threw her off balance and Harry reached out and put his arms around both to steady her, lingering longer than was necessary, once she’d regained her equilibrium.

“Norbert, Norbert,” James was crooning softly, fingering the dragon’s furry scales, his little eyes closing with exhaustion from crying.

Pansy rubbed gentle circles on his back and he nuzzled his head in the crook of her neck.

“It’s okay, James. You’re okay,” she whispered. Then she realized Harry’s arms were still around the two of them and she took a step back, out of his loose embrace.

“Um, do you want to take him?”

“Sure.” She transferred the all but asleep child to his father’s arms. “I’ll put him to bed. Don’t leave?”

Harry turned and left the room. She heard him going up the stairs to the second floor of the house, presumably where the bedrooms were located. Pansy looked around the comfortably furnished sitting room and took a deep breath, trying to slow her pounding heart. She had never been to Harry’s house in Godric’s Hollow before. Harry and _Ginny’s_ house! She reminded herself. She shouldn’t be thinking about kissing him or liking the feel of his arms around her! She heard him coming back down the stairs and turned toward the fireplace, wanting to step in and flee back to her apartment. Before she could move, Harry was back in the room.

“Pansy. You weren’t going to leave before I could say thank you, were you?”  Harry ran his hand through his hair and dropped onto the couch. “Merlin, I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t found that damn dragon!”

“I, um, I’m glad I could help,” she said crossing the room to look at some photos of James, trying to put some distance between them. She couldn’t stop thinking about when Harry put his arms around her, holding James. Pansy knew he’d only done it to make sure she didn’t fall when James threw himself at her because she was holding his lovey. But then he kept them there and she had felt the strength in his arms and the warmth of his body.

She crossed her arms and rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to rid herself of the goosebumps that had risen there at the memory.

“Are you cold?” Harry asked. “I can light a fire.”

“No, no. I’m fine.” She shook her head.

“How about some tea?” He offered, standing and walking toward the kitchen.

Her Pureblood breeding kicked in and before she could think about it had replied, “Yes, thank you” and found herself seated on the couch with a steaming mug in her hands.

“Pansy, I can’t tell you how much it means to me -- and James -- that you found Norbert,” Harry said, cradling his own mug. “He has slept with him every night since Hagrid gave it to him.”

“Norbert, “ she said. “That’s an odd name for a child to name a toy.”

“Hagrid named him. That was the name of the dragon he hatched from an egg our first year. That he had to send to Romania with Charlie Weasley when Professor Dumbledore found out about it.”

“Wait, what. Hagrid hatched a dragon our first year? How did he get the egg to begin with?”

Harry laughed and proceeded to tell Pansy the story about the dragon. Before she realized, they’d had three cups of tea and spent several hours talking. About nothing and everything. Between earlier in the day and now Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled so much. Certainly not in the last year.

He looked at the witch beside him and realized some of the sadness in his heart over Ginny was fading away. Maybe he could move on and find someone else to love and who would love him and James.

“Pansy,” he began, moving a little closer to her on the couch.

“Harry?”

He looked into her eyes that were the color of the night sky and reached out to touch her cheek. She held her breath as he leaned closer, realizing he was going to kiss her. At the last moment, she turned her head and his lips brushed the corner of her mouth and cheek.

“Why don’t you want to kiss me, Pansy?” His breath tickled her ear as he whispered the question. She turned her head back and looked into those famous green eyes.

“Because, “ she whispered, “if I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never fear, we will see our matchmakers again in the next chapter when we find out what they did for Valentine's Day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, did they kiss or not? Let's find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger. Actually, no, I'm not. Heh heh. I can't believe I'm cranking this out as fast as I am, but Harry and Pansy keep talking to me. Imagine what you'd get if I didn't have to work 8 hours a day!
> 
> In this chapter we get a to see our matchmakers again. There will actually be a stand alone one-shot about Draco and Hermione's first Valentine's Day as a married couple, so stay tuned for that.
> 
> As always, these characters we love so much don't belong to me. I just get to play with them because of JKR.

Of the people invested in the situation, Harry was the first to see the photograph in The Daily Prophet the next morning. James was up at his usual early hour, seemingly no worse for wear after the Norbert crisis the night before. The pair was sitting in the kitchen, Harry with a cup of coffee watching James feed himself. He needed a bath anyway so his father let him wield the spoon, much to his delight. More porridge was getting on his face than in his mouth, but he was enjoying himself.

There was a tap at the window as Harry was standing for more coffee and he opened it to admit the owl delivering the day’s issue. He was no stranger to having his photo in the paper of course, but the headline below the fold made him nearly drop his cup.

 

**WAR HERO WIDOWER DATING?**

 

Under the headline was a photo of him and Pansy with James walking between, each of them holding one of his small hands. It had clearly been taken the day before when they were shopping. The small article that accompanied it said he was spotted in Diagon Alley with Pansy Parkinson and his son, James; and an unnamed source was quoted as seeing the them having an intimate Valentine’s Day meal together later that day.

 _Intimate!_ Harry snorted. “As if you can have an intimate meal with a two year old!” he added out loud, looking at the child in question, who was now finger painting with his porridge on the tray of his high chair.

James looked at his father and clapped his hands together, sending bits of porridge flying.

“Two!” he said happily.

The word intimate took his thoughts back to the evening before and Pansy’s whispered reply to his question why she turned her head when he went to kiss her. She’d looked at him, her indigo eyes wide and said, “Because if I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”

Then she’d pressed her lips to his cheek for the second time that day, stood up and walked into the fireplace to floo home. It had taken him a long time to fall asleep after she’d gone and when he did, he dreamed of a raven haired witch with indigo eyes. Dropping the newspaper onto the table he turned to his son.

“Bath time, young man! Then maybe we’ll owl Pansy and she if she’s interested in a proper date.”

  


The next person to see the photo was part of the duo who’d set out to get Harry and Pansy together in the first place. Draco had gotten up early to make Hermione breakfast in order to continue their Valentine’s Day weekend. The day before they’d used a portkey to travel to one of the many Malfoy mansions in Great Britain. She didn’t know where it was and he said she didn’t need to. All that mattered was that they were alone. Completely alone, he’d added with a suggestive smirk. They’d made good use of the alone time.

He was in the kitchen when he saw the delivery owl at the window and opened it to retrieve the paper. Scanning the headlines above the fold while he waited to turn the sausages, he took a sip of coffee as he flipped it to the lower section and nearly choked when he saw the photograph. Forgetting the sausages, he walked quickly back to the bedroom.

“Granger! Wake up! You’re never going to believe this!” he all but jumped onto the bed beside his sleeping wife.

Hermione rolled over and pushed her wild curls out of her face. “Whassamatter, Draco?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Potter and Parkinson! They’re on the cover of the Prophet!” He held the paper out for her to see. She looked, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked again. Sure enough, she was seeing a photograph of Harry and Pansy walking with James between them. Looking up at her husband she said,

“When did this happen?”

“Yesterday, apparently; and they had dinner together as well, according to the article.”

Completely awake now, Hermione sat up against the pillows and reached for the newspaper to look at the photo and information more closely. Then she sniffed. “Are you cooking?”

“Bugger! The sausages!” Draco ran from the room, while his wife laughed and admired his well muscled bare back and his arse in his satin pajama bottoms.

 

Pansy was the last to see it because she’d slept later than usual. It had been nearly dawn before she’d fallen asleep. When she returned from Harry’s house she sat on the couch petting Versace thinking about what had just happened. His voice was burned into her memory, whispering in her ear, “Why don’t you want to kiss me, Pansy?”

She did want to kiss him. That was the problem. Then what did she say? Something that sounded like a line from some Muggle movie: “Because if I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”

Sappy as it sounded, though, it was the complete and utter truth. She wanted him to kiss her and she wanted to kiss him back. But she was afraid of wanting more. Because who was she to deserve to be kissed by Harry Potter? She’d tried to hand him over to Voldemort to simply save her own skin. Everyone said those days were gone and no one held grudges but inside she still felt guilty for the things she’d done and said.

He was the epitome of goodness. He’d saved the wizarding world. Now he was an Auror; sworn to protect and defend their magical world. He’d married his childhood sweetheart, lost her and was now raising their son alone. He was Harry Potter, the Chosen One. She was just Pansy Parkinson. Former Slytherin and a moderately successful dress designer.

“Uuuuggghhhh!” she exclaimed, covering her face with her hands, while Versace watched unblinkingly.

Finally she’d gone to bed but tossed and turned, making Versace seek sleep elsewhere before falling into a restless slumber. Now she was awakened by the cat kneading her leg, delicately extending his claws to let her know he wanted to be fed. Looking at the clock, she couldn’t believe the time. Blearily she pushed back the covers and swung her feet to the cold floor. Pulling on her robe, she made her way to the kitchen and opened a can of cat food. Once he was happily lapping at his bowl, she turned on the kettle for tea and crossed to the window where her copy of the paper was waiting on the ledge.

Unfolding it she gave the top headline — something about a budget vote — a cursory glance, before looking below the fold where there was a photograph and gasped when she saw herself, walking in Diagon Alley holding James’ hand with Harry on the other side. Pansy stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the photo as her kettle whistled away. Finally the sound jarred her out of her trance and she turned it off and sank into a kitchen chair, still looking at the photo. How had they not noticed their photograph being taken? She couldn’t believe they’d published this! What would Harry think? Had he seen it? Had anyone else she knew seen it? She liked to hope not, but it was clear that wasn’t the case when owls started appearing at her window.

The first was from a reporter from the paper, requesting an interview. She incinerated that one with a flick of her wand. The second was from Hermione.

**Pans!**

**You didn’t tell me you were going to spend the day with Harry and James! Fancy some girl talk? I’ll bring the ice cream.**

**~H**

She sent a reply back right away.

**Ice cream? I may need firewhisky. But yes please! The floo is open.**

**P**

While she was waiting for Hermione, a third owl arrived. It was a large snowy owl that looked vaguely familiar. She removed the parchment and the owl stayed on the perch beside hers, so she figured it was waiting for a reply. As soon as she saw the untidy scrawl, her heart began to pound.

**Pansy,**

**Thanks again for finding and bringing Norbert last night. You really saved the day. So what did you think of that photo in the Prophet? I think James needs a haircut. I was wondering, since everyone already thinks we went on a date if you’d like to. Go on a date that is. A real one. Just you and I. Some place that isn’t child-friendly.**

**Yours,  
** **Harry**

Pansy stood there, reading and re-reading the message. She was on the fourth reading when her floo sounded behind her. Turning, she saw Hermione emerge, brushing ashes from her clothes, clutching a brown paper bag.

“Hi, Pansy! Oh, what’s Harry’s owl doing here?” she asked seeing the regal white bird.

“Asking me on a date,” she replied. “Not the owl. Harry.”

“Another one?” Hermione walked to the kitchen and put the bag on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me about yesterday?”

“Yesterday wasn’t a date. Oh, Merlin, this is such a mess! I can’t answer him right now.” She turned to the owl and made a shooing motion with her hands. “You can go home. I don’t have an answer right now.”

The bird huffed, but obediently departed empty clawed.

“If it wasn’t a date then what were you doing to together? On Valentine’s Day?” Hermione asked.

“Ice cream first,” declared Pansy, getting out bowls and spoons.

“No need for bowls.” Hermione reached into the paper bag and retrieved two small cartons of ice cream. “Just spoons.”

Pansy took the container offered, peeled off the lid and sank her spoon into the cold creamy confection, bringing a bite to her mouth. “Mmmmm.”

Hermione sat down on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her and said, “Okay. Now talk.”

Her friend started with the meeting at her and Draco’s flat feeding Crookshanks and how she said James could come meet Versace; ending with the father and son visiting the day before and then the impulsive invitation to go shopping with them. Hermione said little, just encouraging her to continue the story with a small smile on her face. Finally a spark lit in Pansy’s head and she looked at her with narrowed eyes.

“Hermione Malfoy did you set us up to meet at your flat that day? To feed Crookshanks?” she accused, pointing her spoon at the curly haired witch. When she didn’t answer, Pansy continued, “Don’t make me get my wand!”

“I won’t deny that perhaps I asked Harry to do it and Draco asked you. It was simply coincidence that the two of you showed up at the same time,” she said quietly, licking her spoon, then looking very intently into the container of ice cream, hunting for chocolate chips.

“Merlin’s saggy balls!” Pansy exclaimed. “Does Harry know you did this?”

“No, Pans! Honestly, he doesn’t know anything about both of you being asked to feed the cat,” Hermione swore.

“So, so him kissing me last night and owling me today to ask me out is all his own doing?”

“Yes, if Harry wants to take you on a date -- wait, what? Did you say kiss you?”

Pansy sighed. “Yes. Last night after I found Norbert and took it to them.”

“James lost Norbert? Oh he must have been hysterical. He sleeps with him every night,” said Hermione.

“Yes, I learned that. It fell out of the stroller when Harry shrank it before they came up here to floo home after James fell asleep in the restaurant.”

“So you did have dinner together? One never knows if the Prophet is making up things.”

“We did. But it wasn’t a date or an intimate dinner,” Pansy told her, making air quotes around the word intimate. “Even if it was Valentine’s Day; which neither Harry nor I had even realized.”

“Okay, so it wasn’t a date. Where does the kissing come in?”

Pansy told Hermione about how she and Harry had sat and talked and drank tea and then how she’d turned away at the last minute when he went to kiss her. Then she poured out her heart about all her conflicted feelings.

“I know I’ve only spent a little bit of time with him recently, but I really think I fancy him, Hermione,” she concluded.

“Then go out with him,” the other witch urged gently, putting a hand on her friend’s arm. “Don’t put him on a pedestal, Pans. He’s no different than any other wizard. Well, except for his horrid eyesight.” She joked.

As Pansy considered Hermione’s words, there was a tapping at her window. They looked over to see Harry’s owl was back.

“He’s persistent,” said Pansy.   
  
“Oh, you have no idea,” Hermione told her, arching an eyebrow.

Letting the owl in, Pansy removed the message from its leg and again the owl waited. When she unrolled the parchment, she saw it had some childish scribbles on it as well as another note from Harry.

**Pansy,**

**I hope the owl didn’t leave before you could reply. She’s rude like that sometimes. James said he would like to see you again, too, if you can’t read his writing on here, but I told him this would be grown-ups only.**

**I promise I won’t try and kiss you again. In fact, I won’t kiss you until you ask me to.**

**So please can I take you out on a real date?**

**Yours,  
** **Harry**

Hermione read over Pansy’s shoulder and giggled. “He’s not going to stop until you say yes.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and reached for a clean piece of parchment.

**Dear Harry,**

**Thank you, yes, I would like to go on a date with you. Please let me know where and when so I know how to dress.**

**Tell James I would like to see him again as well.**

**Pansy**

**P.S. Hermione said she and Draco will be happy to babysit**

Smirking at her friend, who hadn’t seen the post script, she rolled up the note and sent the owl back with her response.

When Harry got Pansy’s affirmative reply, he looked at James, who was sitting on the floor stacking up blocks and taking delight in knocking them down.

“She said yes, James.” He grinned. “Now I just need to come up with a place to take her. I can’t remember the last time I had to plan a date.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Harry talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, but I thought it was important to present this scene by itself. This is another that has been in my head since the very beginning of this story.

Harry was sitting at his desk on Monday, scribbling thoughts on a piece of scrap parchment about where he could take Pansy on their date when his office door flew open, banging against the wall. _That’ll make a mark,_ he thought before raising his head to look at his brother in law. He’d been expecting this.

Ron had yesterday’s paper clutched in one hand, and an angry look on his face. He shook the paper in Harry’s direction. “What is this?!” he shouted.

Harry removed his glasses, wiped the lenses on his robes and returned them to his face before speaking. “There are a lot of answers to that question, Ron. The first one that comes to mind is The Daily Prophet,” he replied calmly.

Ron unfolded the paper to the front page and held it between his hands, displaying the photo Harry and Pansy. He shook it again. “THIS!”

“Ron, if you’re going to shout, how about closing the door?” Harry maintained his calm tone.

The redhead turned and slammed the door closed. “Happy?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Quite, thanks. Listen, Ron,” Harry began, knowing this conversation wasn’t going to be easy. “That photo. I didn’t know they took it.”

“But you were out with Parkinson? With James?” Ron asked huffily.

“Why don’t you sit down, mate?”

Ron sat down stiffly in one of the two chairs on the far side of Harry’s desk designated for visitors to the Auror’s office, his posture tense, but he was calmer than when he burst in.

“So you _were_ out with Parkinson.”

“Pansy came with me to shop for clothes for James. I didn’t know the first thing about what to buy -- ”

“You could have asked Mum,” Ron interrupted. “Or Lav.”

“Ron, I’m tired of relying on your mother to help me raise James. She and Arthur already do so much,” Harry continued. “As I said, I didn’t know a photographer from the Prophet took our picture. And before you ask, yes, we ate together. The three of us. It was hardly the intimate dinner the paper suggested it was. James ate his noodles with his hands.

“However, I’ll tell you this as well: I’ve asked Pansy out on an actual date and she said yes.”

The red started to build in Ron’s face again, but Harry held up a hand, forestalling anything he was going to say.

“Ron, I loved Ginny from almost the first time I saw her. You of all people know that. She’s the mother of my son; I will always love her. Always.” Harry ran a hand through his already untidy hair. “But she’s gone. And - and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone.

“I will -- we will -- make sure James knows how much Ginny loved him. But he deserves to grow up with a dad and a mum. He deserves more than I had.”

The two men who had been best friends for almost 15 year looked at each other in silence as Harry finished speaking, unshed tears shining in both their eyes. As much as it pained Ron to think Harry was moving on from his baby sister, he knew he was right about James needing two parents. He knew how hard it was for Harry to have grown up without any. Petunia and Vernon Dursley had simply been guardians at best. The closest thing Harry ever had to parents were Ron’s own.

Harry cleared his throat. “All right then, Ron?”

The other nodded slowly. “All right.” His gangly limbs relaxed in the chair and he looked at Harry thoughtfully, stroking the small goatee he’d recently grown, even though Lavender had informed him it was coming off before the wedding. “So, Parkinson, huh?”

Harry offered a small smile. “Yeah, I dunno. We’ve kind of hit it off. She’s nothing at all like Gin. But I like her.”

“No one is like Ginny, Harry.” The two friends grinned at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, Lavender has a gown fitting, Harry decides on their date and our matchmaking couple find out they're babysitting.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavender has a gown fitting. Harry and Pansy have tea. Draco learns he and Hermione are babysitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a filler chapter to pull some different parts together. We finally get to see our matchmakers again in this and the next chapter.
> 
> As always, the characters belong to JKR. Only the plot is mine.

While Harry and Ron were talking, Pansy was helping Lavender into her wedding gown for her first fitting. Ron and Lavender’s wedding was in June and Pansy had been hired to design and make both her wedding gown and the bridesmaids dresses -- all eight of them. Lavender came from just as large a wizarding family as Ron, but in her case she had sisters and one brother. Her attendants were originally made up of her five sisters, two cousins and Ginny. Now, Hermione was taking Ginny’s place. Bill and Fleur’s daughter, Victoire was the flower girl and James was to be the ring bearer, pending the two year old’s cooperation.

The wedding dress was a floor length A-line design made from white organza material with lace appliques. It had three-quarter length off the shoulder sleeves with a sweetheart neckline and a satin lined bodice. The skirt had a court train with more appliques. The back was open to her mid back with a satin ribbon bow at the waist. 

Lavender stood on a raised platform in a fitting room where three quarters of the walls were mirrored and looked at her reflection.    
  
“Oh, Pansy! It’s more beautiful than I envisioned!” The blonde witch exclaimed.

“Thank you,” the designer replied. “Now, I was waiting for you to see if you wanted to add this.” She waved her wand and pearl details appeared on the appliques.

“Yes! That’s perfect!”

Pansy knew it would be, but she just smiled. Some brides preferred less detailing, but she knew Lavender would like the pearls. Humming to herself, she pinned a few spots on the bodice that needed adjusted and then turned to the hem. After all the pinning and marking was done, Pansy carefully helped Lavender take the dress off and was hanging it up while the other witch redressed. Just as she was getting ready to leave the dressing room, Lavender spoke from behind the screen.

“I saw that picture of you and Harry and James in the Prophet.”

Pansy froze. That meant Ron had seen it too, most likely. Before she could reply, the other woman continued.

“I know Ron wasn’t happy about it. Sometimes I think he feels like Harry should be in mourning for the rest of his life.” Lavender emerged from behind the screen, fluffing her blonde curls. “I don’t. Harry’s young. We’re  _ all  _ young. If he wants to go on dates, then I think he should. He deserves to be happy.”

Pansy smiled at her. “Thanks for that. It wasn’t really a date. But he’s asked me to go on one.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” She smiled again, bigger this time. “I am.”

“Good,” said Lavender.

That afternoon, Pansy was at her desk working on the Auror robes sketches as the deadline to submit the proposal was approaching when one of her sales clerks appeared in the doorway. 

“Pansy,” she said, “there’s someone here to see you.”

Engrossed in the drawing she replied, “That’s fine. Send them in.” 

She figured it was probably a fabric sales representative so she was surprised to hear a familiar voice say, “Have you had tea?”

Pansy turned her head to see Harry leaning against the doorframe. Her heart did a little flip. He was dressed for work. She’d never seen him in his Auror robes before and outdated or not, he cut quite the handsome figure in them.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” she lifted a hand to her hair, wondering how much had fallen out of the loose bun she’d put it up in before starting to sketch to keep it from her face.

He’d paused in the doorway before speaking, when he saw she was absorbed in her work and watched for a moment. Her raven hair was pulled up on top of her head revealing the nape of her neck where some fine strands had escaped the twist, and had a sudden desire to press his lips there.

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop in and say hello.” He smiled. “Your hair is fine.”

She dropped her hand to the desk. “Hi. And no, I haven’t had tea,” she said, returning the smile.

“Good. Get your cloak.” Pansy stood and retrieved her cloak from the coat rack. Harry took it from her and helped her put it on. They walked into the shop together and Pansy told her sales clerks she was going out for tea. He held the door for her and they walked outside and down the sidewalk to a small cafe. It had an outdoor seating area that was magically kept warm during cold weather. After they were seated and ordered, she looked at Harry.

“You were in the neighborhood?” She raised an eyebrow. “Since when do Aurors need to come to this part of Diagon Alley?”

A bit of a flush crept up Harry’s neck. He shrugged. “So maybe I wasn’t just walking by,” he admitted. “Was this not okay?”

“No. I’m glad you stopped by.” She put a hand on his forearm, and even through his robes and shirtsleeve could feel the firm muscles beneath and fleetingly wondered what his bare arms looked like.

“So Ron came to see me today,” he told her, taking a sip of his tea that had been placed on the table.

“About the picture in the Prophet?” Pansy said with a wince. “He wasn’t happy was he? Lavender was in this morning for a fitting and she mentioned it.”

“He wasn’t. Not at first. But we -- we talked.” 

She sipped her own tea, wondering how hard a conversation that had been between the best friends. “Did you tell him we didn’t know the picture was taken? That we weren’t on a date?” 

“I did. I also told him we were going on an actual date. Speaking of which, I’ve decided what we’re going to do. But it’s a surprise.” He grinned.

“How am I supposed to know how to dress if I don’t know where we’re going?” she protested.

“Wear shoes for walking. That’s all I’m going to say.”

“That is barely helpful, Harry Potter,” she said in mock indignation.

“Well, that’s all you’re going to get,” he asserted with a grin.

“So when is this date happening? Or is that a surprise too?” Pansy asked, a twinkle in her eye.

“Oh, erm, yeah.” He chuckled. “Is Saturday okay?”

“Saturday is perfect. I’ll let Hermione know that’s when they’ll be babysitting.”

“No. Let me tell Draco. He and I have a standing lunch each week. I want to see the look on his face,” Harry said.

“All right. What time should I expect you?”

“Is 9 o’clock too early? We have to travel a little ways. Not too far.”

“That’s fine.” She took a final bite of her muffin and wiped her fingers on her napkin. “I really should get back. I have another appointment this afternoon. Thank you for this. I enjoyed it.”

“Me too.”

Harry walked Pansy back to her shop. She tried to work on her Auror proposal but her thoughts kept drifting back to Harry and how handsome he looked in his robes. She liked having tea with him and was looking forward to their date on Saturday.

Wednesday was Harry’s standing lunch with Draco. They met at the same Muggle pub each week. The two young men who started out as enemies had become good friends in the last few years. Harry tried to get Draco to come to work with him at the ministry, but the Malfoy heir decided to try and rebuild the family businesses and had been rather successful. After they received their orders, Harry sat back in his chair, preparing to enjoy the look on his friend’s face when he broke the news about babysitting James that weekend. He took a drink of his tea. They’d both prefer an ale, but since he was on duty, it was tea.

“So I’m taking Pansy out this weekend, did Hermione tell you?”

“She said you’d asked Parkinson out, but I didn’t know when the big event was. What are you doing? Dinner and dancing?”

“Come on, Malfoy, that’s something you’d do; not me.” Harry said. “No, I’m taking her into London. That’s all I’m telling you. I tell you, you tell Hermione and Pansy knows and I want it to be a surprise. But I’ll be dropping off James at about half eight Saturday morning.”

Draco paused with a chip halfway to his mouth, his eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “Sorry, how’s that?”

“You and Hermione are watching James. You know she’s said any time,” Harry said, enjoying his friend’s reaction. 

The blonde man recovered his composure quickly, because it would never do for a Malfoy to appear flustered at the thought of babysitting a child, even though inside he was a little panicked. Popping the chip in his mouth, he chewed and then replied,

“Of course, mate. Any time. No problem.”

That night at home, however, Draco voiced his concerns to his wife. 

“You’ll be here the whole time, right, Hermione? I don’t know the first thing about two year olds,” he said. He was leaned against the headboard of their bed, watching her brush her hair and lotion her hands and arms.

“I will. But it’s time you started to learn a bit about taking care of children,” she smiled.

“What do you mean? You’re not -- ?” He cast a wide-eyed glance at her flat abdomen covered by her satin negligee.

“Merlin no!” Hermione laughed and climbed onto the bed to straddle his lap, knees on either side of his legs, which made her nightie ride up on her thighs. “I’m not pregnant. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work on it.”

She bent her head to place a kiss on his bare shoulder, then nipped gently on the skin with her teeth. His hands, which had been caressing her thighs, slid beneath the satiny fabric to grasp her hips and pull her tighter against his arousal. Hermione slid her hands into his silky blonde hair and kissed him, teasing his tongue with hers until he pulled his head back briefly to growl,

“Then let’s get to work, my beautiful witch.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Pansy's first real date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is it, friends, what we've all been waiting for: their first real date. There's a little dramatic lead-in, that I won't lie, you may need tissues for. Then we have a little fun interaction with Aunt Hermione and Uncle Draco when Harry drops off James before we get to the main event. This is a long chapter. At least for me.

Pansy didn’t see Harry again the rest of the week. Not that she expected to, but part of her was hoping he might “be in the neighborhood” again and stop in for tea. In an effort to distract herself, she threw herself into working on the Auror robes proposal. By Friday, the drawings were complete. She needed only to put together a letter about her and her design history. Friday night she stood gazing into her closet, trying to decide what to wear the next day.

Versace lay on her bed, watching as she pulled out various combinations and sent them flying back into the closet with a flick of her wand. Wear shoes for walking, he’d said. Since her footwear tended toward the high heeled variety her choices were limited. Cushioning charms only worked so well, and she didn’t want to have sore feet halfway through the day. Her other options were a pair of flats, a pair of ankle boots with a flat heel and a pair of old trainers. The trainers were out. That left the flats or the boots. Since the weather forecast said snow was threatening that weekend, she decided to go with the boots. A soft chunky sweater in a lilac color paired with jeans would work. Setting the clothes aside and returning all the other pieces to their rightful place, Pansy set to redoing her manicure. She kept her nails trimmed shorter because of drawing and handling fabric, but she still liked to keep them painted. Magically of course because it was quicker than the Muggle way.

Then she fixed herself a cup of tea and curled up in bed with a the new issue Witch Weekly. She hoped she would be able to sleep. She felt silly, being this excited and nervous about going on a date. It was as if she was a teenager again, having been asked to go to Hogsmeade with one of the boys she fancied. Back then Harry wasn’t one of them. She hardly ever gave him a second glance. Finally she turned out the light and slid down under the covers. Versace curled up next to her, and his purring lulled her to sleep.

In Godric’s Hollow, Harry was experiencing a different type of emotion. For the first time in eight years, he wished he hadn’t left the Resurrection Stone on the floor of the Forbidden Forest. He wished he could talk to Ginny one last time. James was tucked in with Norbert and he now sat with a photo album in his lap. He paged through it, looking at photos of him and Ginny. He’d meant what he told Ron: he loved Ginny almost from the first time he met her. She was fiery and determined, strong and stubborn; even as a child. Their son had inherited a lot of those traits. Daily, he reminded Harry more and more of his mother. He hoped Ginny would be happy with what he was doing. Going out with Pansy. Thinking about her as someone other than a friend. He liked to think if the situation were reversed, she would have done the same thing. He touched a finger to a photo of him, Ginny and James the day the boy was born. She held James and his arms were around the both of them while Ginny kissed the top of the swaddled baby’s head.

“I hope you’re happy how I’m managing with our boy, and I hope I’m not disappointing you by fancying Pansy. I know you didn’t know her well. She’s a good person. I don’t know where this is going, but she likes James and he likes her.” He sighed. “I love you, Gin. I always will.”

Closing the album, he stood and returned it to its home on the bookshelf. Then he went to bed, falling into a restless sleep. He woke shortly before dawn from a vivid dream. In it, he’d seen his parents and Sirius just he had in the Forbidden Forest. This time, Ginny was with them. His mother spoke to him and said they were taking care of her now; he needed to take care of James and himself. 

“Be happy, sweetheart,” she said.

Not hearing James stirring and not ready to get up, Harry pulled the covers up against the chill of the room and fell into a sound sleep for another couple hours until he was awakened by the toddler calling from his room.

“Up, Daddy! Up! Up!”

As the father and son got ready for the day, Harry told James about how he was going to spend the day with Auntie Hermione and Uncle Draco while he took Pansy into London.

“Pans! V’sachy?”

“That’s right my boy, Versace is Pansy’s kitty. But we’re not going to see him today. I’ll take you back another day, okay?”

“‘Kay!” said the child. “Auntie ‘Mione kitty?”

“Yes, you’ll get to see Auntie Hermione’s kitty today.”

Harry packed a bag with extra nappies and clothes, some of James’ toys including Norbert and shrank the stroller to put it in as well; not knowing what Hermione and Draco might have planned for the day. Flooing from their house to the other couple’s flat, he called out their names before putting the toddler down. 

“Hermione! Draco! We’re here!”

He knew his friends often got carried away with their lovemaking and didn’t always make it to the bedroom. After arriving via the floo one time to find Hermione sitting on the kitchen counter and getting a flash of Draco’s bare bum, he made sure to announce his presence before stepping off the hearth.

“Hi, Harry,” said Hermione coming around the corner from the hallway. Fully clothed, to Harry’s relief, even though her shirt was untucked.

“Auntie ‘Mione!” cried James, wriggling to be put down. Once his feet hit the floor, he ran to her and was swept up in her arms.

“Jamie!” She hugged him tightly and pressed kisses to his little neck until he giggled. Hermione was the only one who used a shortened version of her godson’s name. Draco joined them a moment later barefoot and wearing jeans, casually buttoning his shirt. 

“Morning, Harry. Coffee?”

“Please. I have a little time before I have to go pick up Pansy.”

The two men walked into the kitchen. After handing Harry a mug of coffee and putting milk and sugar on the counter, Draco asked, “Can you tell me where you’re going now?”

Harry took a sip, savoring the flavor as Malfoy always had the best coffee. He didn’t want to know how much he paid for it. Then he replied,

“We’re going to a museum that has an exhibit about clothing through history. Muggle history. I thought she might enjoy seeing it.”

“Harry, Pansy will love that!” said Hermione coming into the kitchen with James on her hip. She accepted the mug Draco held out to her. “Thank you, darling.”

“Darling,” mimicked the toddler, making the adults laugh. 

“That’s Uncle Darling to you, mate,” said Draco, ruffling the boy’s hair. “What are we going to do today?”

“Trains,” James replied. “Down.”

“Down, please.” Hermione prompted.

“Down, please,” he repeated and she lowered him to the ground. Then he took Draco by the hand. “Come play trains, Uncle Darling.”

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing again. Draco bit back a smile.

“I think on that note, I’m going to leave,” said Harry. 

Still chuckling, he walked back to the fireplace. He was a little hesitant to floo into Pansy’s apartment, hoping she wasn’t in a state of undress. But she did know he was coming. Even so, once he arrived, he kept his eyes closed and said,

“Pansy?”

“Hi, Harry. Why are your eyes closed?” He opened them to see her sitting at her desk, turned to face him.

“Sorry. I - I didn’t want to catch you, um, not dressed or something.” Pansy laughed and stood up, crossing the room to where he stood.

“Thanks for being a gentleman, but I made sure I was dressed in time that even if you were early that wouldn’t happen. Did you get James to Hermione and Draco’s all right?”

He nodded, telling her the Uncle Darling story. She laughed again and Harry thought it was one of the most lovely sounds he’d ever heard. He looked at the woman before him and realized how small she really was. Before now, he’d only seen her in heeled shoes. Today she wore flat soled boots and the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. She had to tip her head back to look at him as they were standing quite close. Close enough she could smell his cologne which drove whatever statement she was going to make out of her head. Taking a step back, Pansy forced herself to think. Then she remembered. Cloaks or coats.

“So, this place we’re going? Is it magical? Should I wear my cloak?” She noticed he was again wearing the Muggle style leather jacket he’d worn when they went shopping. Beneath it was a soft looking jumper in a heather grey over a dress shirt. Like her, he was wearing jeans.

“Do you have a coat? We’re going into Muggle London,” Harry told her. She nodded. 

“Yes. Be right back.” Pansy disappeared into what he assumed was her bedroom and returned with a woolen pea coat over her arm. Taking it from her, he held it so she could slide her arms in. Again, out of habit, he reached for her hair to free it from the inside of the coat. His fingers brushed against the soft skin on the back of her neck and he remembered seeing that skin revealed the other day when her hair was pulled up. Today it was hidden by the silky curtain of hair. She turned to face him. 

“Why do you do that? Pull my hair out from my coat, I mean?”

“Habit, I guess. I used to do it for Ginny. I’m sorry if it bothers you.” He frowned.

“No, it’s fine. It’s nice,” Pansy said, busying herself buttoning her coat and putting on a pair of gloves so he couldn’t see that his touch on the back of her neck had set her heart racing.

“We’ll go out through the Muggle entrance of your shop,” Harry said, as they exited her flat and made their wait down the stairs. “Then we’ll take the tube to where we’re going.”

“The tube?”   


“Sorry. Muggle term. It’s a form of Muggle transportation. Like a train, but underground,” he explained. 

They exited the shop onto the sidewalk and Harry took her arm. The street was busy with people on the Saturday morning and they walked a few blocks to the entrance of the underground. Pansy hesitated a little at the top of the stairs.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly, moving his hand from her arm to clasp her gloved one in his, and led the way down the concrete steps. 

She followed the lead of the people around them, putting the ticket he handed her into the slot and retrieving it when it reappeared and the barrier lifted so she could walk through; with him on her heels. Taking her hand again, Harry led her to a casual queue of people. Suddenly there was a loud sound, a gust of wind and a shiny silver train rushed up and came to a stop, multiple doors sliding open. Pansy looked up at him, eyes wide. There was no time to talk as the crowds behind them surged forward, forcing them to move as well. She kept a tight hold of his hand so they weren’t separated. The seats were already filled, but Harry led her to a thin metal pole that was connected to the floor and ceiling.

“We’ll have to stand,” he murmured in her ear. “Hold on here.”

She grasped the pole with the hand that wasn’t still holding his. A disembodied voice announced the doors were closing before they slid silently, enclosing them in the car. Pansy hadn’t thought she was claustrophobic, but she wasn’t liking being closed in the small space with so many people. Closing her eyes, she took a breath as the train started forward with a jerk. Unprepared for the movement, she lost her balance momentarily, before Harry released her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her securely against his body as he adjusted his stance to balance both of their weights. Pansy knew he was strong and fit -- being an Auror he’d have to be -- but the firm grip around her waist surprised her. Her heart was pounding from both the new experience of riding the underground train and from being held in his embrace.

Tipping her head back against his shoulder, she looked up at him and breathed, “Thanks.”

His response was to give her waist a squeeze and slide the hand that was holding the pole down closer to hers so they were touching. Pansy wished they weren’t wearing gloves so she could feel his hand against hers. Harry stared down at the top of her head, glad for the the coats they were wearing so she couldn’t feel his heart racing. It was reflex that made him put his arm around her to keep her steady, but when she leaned her head back to look at him, he’d wanted to bend his head and capture her lips with his. There was something about this raven haired witch that was, well, bewitching. Maybe it was because her actions were sincere and somewhat innocent. After Ginny died, he’d had a few witches who pursued him because of who he was. Their smiles and flirtatious glances were fake and clearly part of their agenda to try and snag an eligible, famous, wealthy wizard. 

They traveled in silence, each lost in their own thoughts and comfortable with not feeling like they had to make conversation. Pansy looked at the people in the car with them and wondered if they were all Muggles. Both of them were enjoying the informal embrace and when the train slowed and came to a stop were a little disappointed to end the contact. Exiting the car, Harry again took her hand to lead the way through the crowds to the stairs leading to the surface. At the top, he stopped on the sidewalk out of the way of the people going by.

“What did you think?” he asked, grinning.

“It could take some getting used to. Is it always that crowded?” Pansy replied.

“Depends. We can go back a different way if you want,” he offered.

“No,” she answered quickly, thinking about his arm around her. “It’s okay.” Giving herself a little mental shake, she continued, “So now where?”

“We have to walk a little bit more to get there. Are you warm enough?” Harry asked. The wind was blowing more here than where they’d started and the tip of her nose was pink. She nodded. “Okay.” He leaned close and spoke so only she could hear, “If you get cold, let me know and I’ll cast a warming spell.”

“I will.” She smiled and threaded her arm through his. “Lead on, then!”

They walked for about ten minutes more until they came to an imposing stone building, that reminded Pansy of the exterior of the Ministry for Magic. Letters on the front read  **Victoria and Albert Museum** . She knew what a museum was but had never been to a Muggle one before.

“Is this where we’re going? A Mug -- a museum?” she asked as they stopped at the foot of stairs that led to the main entrance.

“Yes. They have an exhibit on clothing through history. I thought you might like to see it,” Harry told her, watching her face light up and feeling relieved that he chose well.

“Really? That sounds amazing!” She took his hand and started up the steps.

Once inside they found a cloakroom to leave their outerwear, and following the map they’d been given, they made their way to the exhibit. While it didn’t really interest Harry, he found it amusing that some of the men’s formal wear from era’s gone by looked similar to his dress robes. But what he enjoyed the most was watching Pansy’s face as she walked from display to display, reading the descriptions. 

As they walked side by side, their hands had brushed several times, making Pansy’s pulse speed up each time. She glanced over at Harry, wondering if he wanted to hold her hand or if the touches had been genuinely accidental. He caught her looking and gave her a smile that made her stomach flip. Then he reached over and took her hand in his. She smiled back and butterflies filled her insides when his thumb caressed the top of her hand. They’d held hands outside wearing gloves, but he’d wanted to feel her skin against his since they started walking through the museum and felt like a teenager, not so subtly brushing his hand against hers until she finally noticed. Harry couldn’t believe how small her hand was and how perfectly it fit into his. Pansy liked the feel of his fingers wrapped around her hand. Moving her thumb to return the caress she felt raised ridges, as if he had scars there. She looked at him quizzically and he simply said, “Umbridge.”  They continued through the exhibit hand in hand until finally she had seen every display.

“What now?” Harry asked. As if in reply, his own stomach growled loudly, reminding him he’d eaten nothing that day except for the cup of coffee at Draco and Hermione’s. Truth be told, he’d been too nervous to eat when he gave James his breakfast.

Pansy laughed. “It sounds like lunch is in order.” 

“Sounds like it.” He chuckled. “Do you want to leave and find somewhere or stay here? There are three cafe’s here. I’ve never eaten in them, but they get good reviews.”

“I guess it depends on whether we’re going to see more of the museum,” she replied, thinking she didn’t care what they did or where, as long as he was there.

“There is another special exhibit I’d like to see, so why don’t we give a cafe a go?” Harry suggested.

Consulting the map, they made their way to the Garden Cafe, made their selections and found a table. While they ate, Pansy told Harry about how she was submitting a proposal for the new Auror’s robes; or as she put it so as not to draw attention to them, the uniform for his division at work.

“I hope they make us look less like Professor Snape than we do now,” he laughed. Pansy assured him they were more modern looking, but silently thought he was appealing in anything he wore.

When they finished lunch, Harry said, “Come. Let me introduce you to Winnie the Pooh.”

Being a witch, Pansy was not familiar with the iconic bear and his friends from the Hundred Acre Wood, and Harry enjoyed showing her the speciality exhibit currently running at the museum. She fell in love with the characters and insisted on buying James a stuffed version of the bear. Harry was surprised she had a Muggle credit card, but she explained that she dealt with Muggle suppliers as well as magical and needed to be able to pay them.

The museum had gotten more crowded in the afternoon and Harry wanted to be alone with Pansy where they could speak more freely so he suggested they take a walk in Hyde Park, which was just a few blocks away from the museum. Retrieving their coats from the cloakroom, they bundled up to go outside. The sun was shining, but dark clouds were closing in.

“Tut, tut. It looks like snow,” said Harry, adapting a familiar line from the A.A. Milne story. 

Harry and Pansy had walked a little ways arm in arm on the park path when the clouds finally overtook the sun and big, fluffy snowflakes began to fall. They drew to a halt and Pansy lifted her face to the sky, closing her eyes. Harry watched as snowflakes landed on her cheeks and eyelashes. He couldn’t resist any longer. Bending his head, he pressed his lips to her cheek where a snowflake had fallen. It melted against his mouth. Her eyes fluttered open, the flakes clinging to her lashes.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “I know I said I wouldn’t -- “

“Harry,” she cut him off, turning to face him and placing her gloved palms against his chest.

“Okay. I won’t do it again.” He took a step backward. But she shook her head and closed the gap between them, her hands grasping his jacket at his waist.

“Stop talking.” Pansy rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. 

Even though their lips were cold from being outside, the instant they met, warmth flooded each of them. Pansy’s kiss was brief and she dropped back to flat feet, gazing into Harry’s eyes. Her heart was racing. She wanted him to kiss her properly. But they were standing in the middle of a path in a Muggle park. Did Muggles snog in public? He broke eye contact with her for a moment to look around them. They were alone on the path, which was on a bend, hidden from view by a tree.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, pulling her into his arms. “Hang on.”

Her eyes widened briefly because she knew what he intended. In a flash, he had apparated the two of them from where they stood, back to her flat above her store. Releasing her from his embrace, he yanked off his gloves. Then he cupped her face in his hands and did what he’d been wanting to do since the night she brought Norbert to his house: claimed her mouth with his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what did you think? Yes, a little cliffhanger. Sorrynotsorry. 
> 
> Many thanks to theoofoof for answering all my questions about the the underground in London and the museum! The V&A looks like an awesome place just from its website. I HIGHLY recommend you check it out and go to the Winnie the Pooh exhibit web page. It's adorable! Yes, there really is a Pooh Bear exhibit. As is the clothing one.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Pansy have apparated back to her apartment. What will happen now that they've kissed? And how are Draco and Hermione faring with little James?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger. Well, not really. But here's the next chapter. I am sorry for the delay, though. Enjoy!
> 
> This chapter is a little more mature in it's descriptions but not too explicit.

Harry’s palms were warm on Pansy’s cold face and his lips gentle against hers. Still clutching his jacket she closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, feeling disappointed when he ended it. But she giggled when she opened her eyes and saw his glasses had fogged up from the rapid temperature change. Releasing her face, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it aside. Then he removed his glasses and wiped them clean with the handkerchief he pulled from a pocket of his jeans. While he did that, Pansy removed her own coat and gloves. He settled the eyewear back on his face.

“That’s better. Now, where were we?” he asked, with a small smile.

“Here, I think,” she replied, stepping close to him and doing what he’d done, placing a hand on either of side of his face, pulling his head down to kiss him. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her so her toes were barely touching the floor; evening out the height difference a little. As he did, her hands went from his face to around the back of his neck and she threaded her fingers in his hair.

This kiss was as gentle as the first two, but less chaste. The tip of his tongue lightly touched her bottom lip and she returned the gesture, then opened her lips to grant him access. Before crossing the threshold of her mouth, he ran his tongue across both her top and bottom lips. She tasted like the tea from lunch and the peppermint he saw her pop in her mouth before they left the museum. Pansy responded but let him take the lead with the kiss, heat coursing through her veins, stoked by the smell of him invading her nostrils. Briefly she wondered if that was what she’d smell if someone had a cauldron of Amorentia in the room. It was an intoxicating aroma of his cologne, worn leather, coffee and something she couldn’t identify. A light, innocent smell. But those thoughts were quickly pushed from her mind when he took a few steps and sat them down on the couch with her on his lap so he could move one hand from her waist to bury it in her silky locks. Bravely, Pansy pushed past his tongue with her own and tasted his mouth. Harry gave a low moan when she did and the hand at her waist slid beneath the hem of her jumper to caress her back. The touch of his hand against her bare skin pulled her back to reality. She pulled her lips from his and rested her cheek against his where she felt the rough beginnings of a beard.

“Harry,” she said, trying to regain control of her breathing.

“Pansy,” he replied, feeling equally out of breath and more than a little aroused.

“We need to stop.” She carded her fingers through the hair at the back of his head and brought a hand around to his chest, pushing herself up to put a little distance between them. His eyes were quite green and she could feel his hardness against her leg where she sat sideways on his lap.

“Yes, yes. You’re right,” he agreed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Harry. I was enjoying myself,” she assured him. “We just shouldn’t get too carried away.”

Because her feet were dangling off the floor as she sat on his lap, she had to wriggle a little to be able to stand up. The action didn’t help calm Harry’s arousal.

“Tea?” Pansy asked once she got to her feet. She needed to put some distance between the two of them.

“Sure.” When she turned to walk to the kitchen he stood and discreetly adjusted his jeans. “Mind if I use the loo?”

“Not at all. It’s through my bedroom,” she replied, busying herself with the kettle.

Harry walked through the doorway and paused to take in the room. It was decorated in colors  and fabrics that were feminine but not frilly. Versace was curled up in the middle of the bed. He opened his eyes as the man approached, but didn’t stir. Hanging on the wall was a copy of the cover of Witch Weekly with Hermione in her wedding gown. He made a mental note to find the back issue and read the article. Continuing on into the bathroom, he closed the door behind him. After emptying his bladder, he washed his hands and looked into the mirror over the sink running damp hands through his hair.

His arousal had faded but not his desire for Pansy. But she was right. He’d been moving too fast. He didn’t want her to be a one-night shag. Not that he ever had any of those. Ginny was his first and only lover and he hers. Now that he felt sure Pansy returned his interest, he was going to do this right. He grinned at himself in the mirror and left the bathroom, running a hand over the cat who was still in his spot on the bed as he passed by. Pansy was putting two mugs on the table next to a plate of biscuits when he returned. He noticed her lips had a just-kissed look and it made him smile knowing he’d made them that way.

“What?” she asked, returning the smile.

“Just thinking how much I’ve enjoyed today.” It wasn’t a lie. Harry had enjoyed spending the day with her more than he’d even imagined he would. Much to his regret, it would be ending soon because he needed to retrieve James from Hermione and Draco’s.

“Me too,” she admitted with a little blush. As if reading his mind, she asked, “When do you have to pick up James?”

“Soon. I promised Draco and Hermione they wouldn’t have to deal with bedtime.”

“Make sure you take Winnie the Pooh to him from me,” she reminded.

“No, you need to give it to him yourself. Why don’t you come round for brunch tomorrow and give it to him then?”

The words came out before he could stop to think about it. He wanted to spend as much time with this indigo-eyed witch as possible. And with his son around, he was more likely to be able to keep his hands to himself, he thought wryly. Pansy cradled her mug in her hands and looked at him across the rim. Oh, she liked the boy -- no, the _man_ who lived. She really, really liked him. After that day, there was nothing she wanted more than to spend more time with him.

“Okay.” She smiled and took a drink of her tea to still the butterflies in her stomach that appeared when he smiled back. Then the clock on the wall chimed.

“Damn. I need to be going to get James,” Harry said, taking a last gulp from his cup and putting it on the table.

“I’m sure Draco and Hermione are ready to be done playing mum and dad,” Pansy laughed. She stood and walked with him to where his jacket lay on the chair, and handed it to him. He shrugged it on.

“How’s 11:00 tomorrow?”

“Eleven is perfect.” She looked up at him. “Harry, I had a really good time today.”

“I did too, Pansy.” He put his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug. She got a whiff of his leather jacket and returned the hug, pressing her face into his shoulder. Releasing her, he bent his head and kissed her briefly. “I’ll see you tomorrow. James will be happy to see you.”

“Tomorrow, then.” She put up a hand in a wave as he stepped into the fireplace and called out Hermione and Draco’s flat, dropping the floo powder, disappearing in a cloud of green smoke.

 

When he stepped out of the fireplace at their flat he was met by the sight of a room that had clearly been under the control of his two year old son. Some of the couch and chair cushions were on the floor, others were standing on end like a house of cards. The coffee table had been cleared of its magazines and now held a wooden train track on which rode colorful wooden train cars and an engine. An empty sippy cup also stood on the table, surrounded by biscuit crumbs. He shook his head and grinned. James certainly had made himself at home. Before he could call out a greeting, he heard the familiar sound of the toddler’s giggle coming from down the hall, along with the sounds of water splashing. Following the sounds, he found Draco on his knees beside the tub in their guest bath, his hair damp and hanging in his face and his shirt wet from the gleeful splashes being made by James.

“Daddy!” cried the boy, spotting his father in the doorway. Draco turned his head.

“Ah, good. Maybe you can get this fish out of the water,” he said in greeting. “He refuses to let me get him out.”  Pushing himself to a standing position with a groan, he took a towel from a nearby hook and mopped at his shirt.

“James, are you giving Uncle Draco a hard time?” asked Harry.

“I swimming!” The boy lay down on his stomach and kicked his legs, making great splashes of water that went over top the sides of the tub.

“Yes, I see that. But it’s time to get out, now.”

“No!”

“Told you,” muttered Draco, who had used his wand to finish drying his shirt. “Every time I tried to lift him out, he splashed harder.”

“Have you forgotten you’re a wizard, my friend?” Harry asked, drawing his own wand. With a flick of his wrist, he levitated the child from the water, reaching for another towel with his free hand. James giggled as he floated toward his father, who wrapped the towel around him and ended the spell, taking him in his arms.

“Harry! I thought I heard your voice!” Hermione appeared in the doorway, disheveled from her day of babysitting, but dry. “I was getting James some clothes.” She had a set of pyjamas over her arm and reached out for the toddler. “Come on, Jamie. Let’s get you dressed.”

He went willingly into her arms and she carried him into the guest bedroom. The two men returned to the living room and Harry began putting cushions back on the furniture.

“Other than the damp ending, how was the day?” Harry asked.

“Tiring, but not bad. Kids are okay once they can communicate a little,” replied Draco, sitting down on a replaced cushion and using both hands to finger comb his damp hair away from his face.

“That they are,” Harry agreed, choosing a chair. “Think you’ll have one any time soon?”

The blonde wizard shrugged. “That’s more up to Hermione than me. But we have fun trying to make one. Speaking of shagging. How was the date with Parkinson?”

“Malfoy, we did not shag on the first date.” Harry defended the witch. “Did you and Hermione?”

“Did he and Hermione what?” she asked entering the room with a dry, dressed and now sleepy looking James in her arms.

“Um, nevermind,” said her husband. “I was just asking Harry how his date went.”

“Yes, how was it? Did Pansy like the museum?” Hermione sat down beside Draco, keeping James in her lap. The way her husband looked at her fondly holding the child, Harry surmised there would be a little Malfoy sooner than later.

“She liked it a lot. We walked the clothing exhibit and then took in the Winnie the Pooh one. Of course, she didn’t know him.” Harry grinned at Hermione.

“What did she think of that silly old bear?” she smiled back.

“Loved him. Bought a stuffed one for ---- “ he indicated the toddler. “She’s going to bring it tomorrow to give him.”

“What are you talking about? What is a Winnie the Pooh?” Draco asked, feeling like they were speaking in code.

“Winnie the Pooh is a character in a muggle children’s book. He’s a stuffed bear,” Hermione explained. “We have the book. I’ll show you later. It’s a wonderful story.” She looked back to Harry. “Wait? You’re seeing Pansy again tomorrow?”

“She’s coming to have brunch with me and James,” he told her, unable to keep from smiling.

“That’s brilliant, Harry. I’m so glad you two are hitting it off.”

“Hermione’s right, mate. Parkinson’s a good witch. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I know she wouldn’t sha -- er, well, wouldn’t do that on the first date. Especially considering --”

“Draco, why don’t you go get James’ bag?” his wife interrupted, shooting him a look and standing up. “He’s nearly asleep and I’m sure Harry would like to get him home.”

She handed the boy off to his father and began to gather up the train set. Her husband dutifully went to retrieve the bag and Hermione put the train track pieces and cars inside, after checking to make sure Norbert was there as well. Handshakes and hugs were exchanged between the friends and Harry and James floo’d their way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think. There's a lot more to come!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione's first date in a flashback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People have asked for some backstory on our matchmakers in this story and I thought now that Harry and Pansy have had their first date, would be a good time to tell you about Draco and Hermione's. I've believed very strongly since I joined this ship that these two were destined to be together; that all their bickering, sparring and downright near hatred for each other was simply because they didn't understand that they were made for each other and because of what was going on at the time, it wasn't even feasible for them to be even if they did understand it. I hope you enjoy my head canon.
> 
> As always these lovely characters do not belong to me; I just play with them.

The would-be cupids lay in bed that evening after a round of working on making a friend for James, sweaty and sated.

“I think Harry really likes Pansy,” Hermione said, snuggling up against Draco, her head on his shoulder. He coiled one of her curls around his finger.

“I agree.”

“And he picked a perfect first date, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure Parkinson loved it.”

“Do you remember our first date, Draco?”

He chuckled. “Of course I do. It didn’t exactly start out as one.”

“But it certainly ended as one.” Hermione slid a leg over his and positioned herself so they were chest to chest and she was straddling his hips, pressing her forehead to his as they remembered…….

 

_A little more than two years before, she’d been standing in an aisle of a muggle bookstore in London, her arms full of paperback romance novels; her guilty pleasure. Wizard fiction couldn’t hold a candle to a good sexy muggle story, as far as she was concerned and she would make her way into the city every few months to donate the ones she’d read to a library and then stock up on new ones from the bookstore. She was walking down the aisle facing the shelves and wondering if she could hold another two books._

_Hermione took one last book from a shelf, added it to the stack in her arms and turned to go to the checkout, colliding violently with someone who had been walking briskly down the aisle. The books went flying from her arms and she would have ended on up on backside were it not for a pair of strong hands that grasped her arms and kept her upright._

_“Oh!”_

_“Steady there, Granger,” said a familiar voice and she looked up into the gray eyes of Draco Malfoy, hers widening with surprise as she regained her balance,_

_“Draco, what are you doing here?”_

_“In a bookstore in general or a --” he lowered his voice for only her ears, “muggle bookstore.”_

_“This particular bookstore,” she replied and took a step backward when she realized his hands were still holding her arms. He let them drop away and bent to pick up one of the books she’d dropped._

_“Oh no, I can get those,” Hermione protested, not wanting Draco to see the books she was going to purchase. She leaned over to gather them, nearly hitting her head against his in her haste. But his former seeker reflexes were faster and he avoided the collision and scooped up two of the books before she could._

_“What’s this, Granger?” he drawled, looking at the titles. “‘Play Me’? ‘The Prince and The Player’? A little light reading? Not exactly ‘Hogwarts, a History’”_

_Hermione snatched the paperbacks from his hands, blushing slightly that he’d seen the cover of the first title, which was the naked chest and abdomen of an attractively muscled man, his jeans riding suggestively low._

_“So what_ **_are_ ** _you doing here?” she asked, trying to draw his attention away from her selections._

_“Like you, looking for a book,” he replied, retrieving the last fallen paperback from the floor. “Unlike you, something a little more…..substantial.” Draco smirked and held out the book. “I don’t suppose you know where the non-fiction history section is, do you?”_

_Of course she did. It was a bookstore and she was Hermione Granger. But she was a little distracted by being caught by Draco Malfoy no less, with an armful of smutty romance novels; not to mention the fact that this was the first time she’d seen him in quite a while and she’d forgotten how handsome he was. He had on a muggle suit and shirt, the collar unbuttoned, and was wearing his white blonde hair a little longer. Their close proximity enabled her to smell his cologne as well, adding to the distraction; so she hesitated before nodding affirmatively._

_“Of course,” she told him. “I’ll show you. It’s on my way to the check out.” Trying to regain her composure, she brushed past him and led the way out of the aisle._

_Draco’s gaze followed her first; skating down the firm set of her shoulders beneath the blouse she wore to the curves under her casual denim skirt and the bare legs beneath to the sandals on her feet. Then he followed, his eyes still watching the gentle sway of her hips and the bounce of her curls. When had Granger grown curves? After the end of the war, he had made peace with the members of the Golden Trio and surprisingly become friends with Potter himself. But he hadn’t seen Hermione much. In fact, the last time he remembered seeing her was at Potter and Ginny’s wedding, but she was still with Ron Weasley at the time and he hadn’t paid her much attention. He’d heard they broke up and now wondered idly if she was seeing anyone._

_Hermione paused at the entrance to another aisle and waved her hand. “There you go. It was nice to see you again, Draco.” She offered him a shy smile._

_“You too, Granger,” he returned the smile and nodded at her stack of books. “Happy reading.” Then he walked down the aisle to browse the titles._

_Blushing, Hermione hurried to the checkout queue. After paying for her books, she headed to a nearby cafe as was her usual habit after a visit to the bookstore, to dip into her new selections and enjoy a latte and a scone. She was well into the second chapter of ‘Play Me’ when she heard a chuckle and a deep but quiet voice say,_

_“Couldn’t resist that cover, then?”_

_She looked up to see Draco standing on the other side of her small table. Closing the book and laying it cover down in her lap she said, “Are you following me, Malfoy?”_

_“Not at all, Granger. I just happened to stop in for a coffee.” He held up the paper cup in his hand, his name written on the side in black marker. “But you could invite me to join you.”_

_Maybe it was the good mood she was always in after buying new books or the sugar rush from the latte but she waved a hand at the chair opposite her. He sank down into the upholstery and put his cup on the table._

_“What did you end up buying?” she asked._

_He pulled a thick book from the bag and showed her a title about Winston Churchill. She raised her eyebrows. “Nothing like a little light reading,” Hermione teased and her comment opened up a floodgate of a conversation between them that ended up lasting three hours before hunger drove them to find a restaurant._

_Hermione had always known she and Draco were more alike than either wanted to admit, from the first time she discovered they were taking turns being the top two students in their year each grading period. But his pureblood bigotry and condescending attitude didn’t exactly encourage friendship. Over dinner she learned what he’d been doing since the war ended; how Harry had tried to recruit him to be an Auror but he decided to rebuild his family businesses. She told him she thought he’d have made a good Auror._

_Finally after dinner, dessert and more coffee, Hermione allowed Draco to see her back to her flat after they discreetly apparated back to the wizarding part of London. Standing outside the door, he handed her her bags of books he insisted on carrying._

_“Well, this wasn’t what I expected when I walked into that bookstore today,” he said._

_“Me neither,” she agreed, her smile less shy than it had been earlier. “I’m glad we ran into each other. Maybe we can do it again sometime. Book shopping. Or dinner.”_

_‘Merlin’s Beard!’ Hermione thought, ‘Am I flirting with Draco Malfoy?’_

_As if he’d read her mind, Draco smirked and said, “Granger, are you flirting with me?”_

_Her cheeks flushed pink and she bit her lower lip. Without thinking, he reached out and touched his thumb to her lip. His other hand went flat against the door frame, trapping her between his body and the door. She tipped her head up to look at him and he inclined his to replace his thumb with his lips. Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch and she inhaled briefly pulling the scent of him into her mouth. The hand that wasn’t holding the bag of books came up to press against his lapel before sliding up behind his neck, boldly pulling him closer._

_She felt like flames were dancing through her veins as the hand that had touched her face slid around to bury his fingers in her curls. His tongue danced against her lips, asking permission to pass and she willingly opened her mouth to admit it, a small moan escaping her when his tongue stroked hers. Draco’s head was spinning with the intoxicating taste of this witch._

_“Hermione,” he whispered, pulling his lips from hers, and trailing them down her neck as she tilted it back against the door to allow him better access._

_“Draco,” she gasped, silently and wandlessly unlocking it and stepping backward, pulling him with her._

_He closed the door and then pulled her into his arms and recaptured her mouth as she let the bag of books fall to the floor with a thud so she could wrap both of her arms around his waist underneath his suit jacket. It didn’t take long for her to decide the jacket needed to come off and she was pushing it off his shoulders and untucking his dress shirt from his waistband so she could put her hands against his warm skin beneath. Draco reached for her own waistband to pull her blouse free as they continued to kiss._

_“Couch?” he asked, his fingers working on the buttons as hers slipped his from their buttonholes._

_“Bedroom,” she replied, shocking even herself at how bold she was being with the wizard but there was something so very right about how this entire day had been and she wanted to feel his weight pressed against her on her mattress._

_Summer evening sunlight filled the flat so there was no need for lights as she led him to her bedroom. He took in the space that was so the curly haired witch who continued to fumble with his shirt buttons. Bookcases lined two walls, every available space crammed with tomes. The third wall was filled with large windows, through which fading daylight filtered, telling him the sun would peek through the curtains in the morning. Hermione completed her task with his shirt and pushed it from his shoulders, pressing her lips to his toned chest as she did so. Her own blouse was completely unbuttoned now and Draco gently pulled it from her arms, revealing the modest white bra she wore beneath. He reached behind her back and unhooked it, but allowed her the decision to let it fall away. She hesitated for a moment, then lowered her arms to allow the garment to drop to the floor. Lifting her gaze to his, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him, pressing their warm flesh together._

_Draco took a step toward the bed and they stumbled a bit before he picked her up bridal style and placed Hermione on the soft quilt before placing kisses from her belly button just above the waistband of her skirt up her torso to the valley between her breasts. She carded her hands through his silky hair and held his head in place when his lips found the tip of one round breast and then the other. Arching her back with pleasure, she lifted her hips instinctively, trying to reach his, wanting more of his touch. He had deliberately refrained from laying atop her because although he was achingly hard but wasn’t sure if this was really the step they should take._

_“Hermione,” he panted when her hands found the button on his trousers. “Love, stop.”_

_Her brown eyes had been closed and now opened. He looked at her, lips swollen from his kisses, her torso bared to him, nipples hard from his ministrations. He had no doubt if he reached beneath her skirt, her knickers would be wet. How did they get here, Draco wondered. Had all the verbal sparring and competition between them during their years at Hogwarts really just been an adolescent way of showing interest in each other? Because it really felt like an ancient damn had broken open the moment their lips met in the hallway. He’d kissed and touched other witches before, but there was a rightness to this with Hermione. A feeling of coming home. But he needed to know if she felt it too._

_“Hermione,” he repeated. “Are you sure?”_

_“Draco, I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” she declared, her voice husky with emotion and he knew she felt it too. He nodded._

_Then he moved off of the bed to remove his trousers, boxers, socks and shoes while she wriggled out of her skirt and knickers, her sandals having been kicked off when he picked her up. When they were both revealed to each other, they gazed at the beauty of the other’s nakedness for a moment, before he moved to lay between her legs, the tip of his hardness pressed at her entrance. She briefly muttered a contraceptive spell and he surged into her, their gazes locked together as their bodies became one. For a long minute they remained still as their magic was joined together, then the passion that had been building forced them to move until their movements pushed them both over the edge and they shattered; first Hermione and then Draco, each gasping out the other’s name._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, the two book titles are real and live in my Kindle, as I too, love smutty romance novels.
> 
> Play Me is by Katie McCoy  
> The Prince and The Player is by Tia Louise
> 
> I recommend both.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy has brunch with Harry and James and an unexpected visitor stops by.

Promptly at 11 a.m. Sunday, Pansy appeared in the fireplace at Harry’s house in Godric’s Hollow. She paused before stepping out, taking in the room that looked different in the light of day than it had the last time she was there. It was a cozy room with comfortable, child-friendly furniture. Built in bookcases held editions of magical and muggle books for both adults and children. Bins were filled with all matter of toys; again both magical and muggle. A toy broom was leaned in a corner. Pansy smiled at the sight. Of course James would already be learning to fly. She placed the bag containing the stuffed Winnie the Pooh for him on a nearby table.

Before she could call out for Harry she heard childish laughter coming from another room. Following the sound, she found herself in the doorway to a spacious kitchen where James was giggling as he watched his father flip pancakes into the air and back into the pan on the stove from his perch on a chair pushed against the nearby counter. They had their backs to her and she watched without speaking for a few moments, admiring Harry’s broad shoulders beneath an oxford cloth shirt, the sleeves turned up to his elbows, exposing his well muscled forearms. 

“That’s impressive,” she finally remarked. At the sound of her voice, Harry turned and smiled so broadly, his green eyes sparkling behind his glasses, her breath caught in her throat.

“Pansy. You’re here.”

It had been less than 24 hours since he’d left her apartment but Harry’d had a hard time thinking of anything else than seeing Pansy again. When he saw her in the doorway to the kitchen he couldn’t help but smile and hoped he didn’t look too much like a lovesick teenager; because he was starting to feel like one. She was wearing a light blue dress that looked as soft as a blanket. It nipped in at her small waist but swirled gently around her knees when she walked. Today she wore heels, making it easier for her to kiss him on the cheek after crossing the short distance between them.

“Hi,” she breathed against his cheek after her lips left it. Then she turned to James, who was wriggling in place. “Good morning, James. Are you helping your dad make pancakes?”

“Pans!” he held out his little arms and she gladly took him into hers. She gave him a hug, breathing in his baby smell and suddenly realized that was what she hadn’t been able to identify the day before when she was in Harry’s arms. Part of his unique scent was his son. He turned in her arms and pointed to the stove. “Pancakes. Daddy do.”

“I see that,” she replied. “What can I do to help, Harry?”

“Not a thing. The pancakes were the last to make. Everything else is done and staying warm,” he told her, indicating covered dishes on the table behind her. “If you can get James into his highchair, I’ll bring them over. Coffee or tea?”

It took her moment to figure out the highchair, but she got the boy buckled in and the tray snapped on. While she tied the bib on him she found hanging on a nearby chair she replied, “Tea, please.”

In addition to the pancakes, Harry had prepared a variety of foods including sausages and eggs, fresh fruit and yogurt. Telling Pansy to help herself, he prepared an unbreakable plate for James with some eggs, fruit and a pancake, cut into pieces and handed him a child sized fork. Conversation was difficult while making sure the two year old got more food in his mouth than on his clothes and the floor, so the adults ate in relative silence and Harry was grateful when James pushed the plate away and announced, “I done. Down please.”

Pansy drank her tea, watching as the wizard efficiently cleaned the child’s hands and face and lifted him from the highchair, placing him on the floor. James ran off to the other room and returned with toy train cars in each hand. He offered one to Pansy, with the request, “Play trains?” She looked over at Harry who shrugged as if to say  _ It’s up to you. _

“Can I drink my tea while we play trains?” the witch asked.

“Yes. Drink tea.” He took her hand and tugged gently. “Come play trains.”

Pansy topped off her cup and stood, allowing the boy to lead her back to the other room. Dropping her hand, he proceed to dig his wooden train track out of a bin and place the pieces on the coffee table that clearly doubled as a play table. Ordinarily Harry would clean up the kitchen by hand, but he was curious to see the interaction between Pansy and James. A flick of his wand set the dishes to washing themselves and he carried his own coffee cup into the room where Pansy was now helping James connect the train track into a large oval. He managed most of the straight pieces by himself but was struggling with the curved ones. The witch sank to her knees beside him at the table.

“Like this, James.” She covered his small hands with her own and helped him guide the pieces together. He flashed her a toothy grin. 

“Me do!”

“Yep, you did it,” she agreed. He tried another curved section alone but couldn’t get the pieces connected. 

James lifted his hazel eyes to hers. “Help.” 

Again, she helped him connect the pieces while Harry watched, his heart warming at the way the witch he was coming to care for aided his son. Once the track was completed James brought out the train engine and the cars and lined them up on the wooden rails. Pansy looked at Harry who was now seated on the couch beside where she knelt still at the table. 

“Is that supposed to be….?”

“The Hogwarts Express? Yes.”

“Cool.” She smiled at him. “We’ll have to get one for Draco and Hermione some day.”

“That day may be sooner than you think,” said Harry. “You should have seen the way he looked at her holding James yesterday.”

James had started moving the train around on the track, making the appropriate train noises. Harry held out his hand to help Pansy to her feet. She took it and allowed him to pull her up and then to sit at his side, arm stretched out behind her on the cushions, fingertips resting on her shoulder. They watched James in silence for a little while, then Pansy had a thought. She looked at Harry and said, 

“Do you ever -- you know?” She imitated the swish of a wand. “To make it go?”

Harry grinned. “I haven’t. But go ahead and see what he thinks.”

She drew her wand from the pocket of her dress and with a small motion and silent spell, set the train to moving around the track without the boy’s help. At first, James didn’t realize the wheels were moving on their own. But when he did, he looked at his father and Pansy with wide eyes.

“It’s moving!” he exclaimed. “Magic?”

“Magic,” Pansy confirmed. She made the train slow and then stop.

“More magic!” requested James, clasping his hands together in delight when the train began to move again. The adults chuckled at his reaction.

“Since you’re the conductor, I’ll refill our cups.” said Harry, standing and picking up his and hers and walking toward toward the kitchen.

He had just disappeared from view when the floo roared to life and Molly Weasley stepped out.    
  
“Gran!” exclaimed James, running to his grandmother, who picked him up and held him tightly planting a kiss on his cheek and receiving one in return.

“James, how are you today? Where’s your father?” Her eyes swept the room and landed on Pansy, who had a rather deer in the headlights look on her face at seeing the Weasley matriarch. She was sure the woman didn’t know she would be there.

“Harry’s just gone to the kitchen,” she said quietly and offered up a prayer of thanksgiving as he returned to the room just then, mugs in hand.

“Pansy, did I hear the floo? Oh! Molly! Should I have been expecting you?” Harry handed Pansy her mug as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to be sitting in his living room at midday on a Sunday. “You remember Pansy, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, of course. How are you, dear?” Molly smiled politely at the younger witch.

“Very well, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. And yourself?” Years of etiquette training allowed Pansy to respond automatically and with equal politeness. She hoped her face had recovered from the surprise and didn’t reflect the nervousness she felt. Before she had to try and think of something else to say, James spoke up.

“Pans make magic, Gran,” he said. “She make train go.” The toddler pointed to the toy train, which was still magically moving around the wooden track.

“Isn’t that nice,” remarked Molly coolly, then she continued, speaking to Harry. “The reason I stopped by was to give you the clothes of James’ I mended.”

She looked at Harry who was still standing but had moved to stand behind the couch where Pansy sat, his free hand resting casually on the cushions near her. He wanted to place it on her shoulder to reassure her. Mrs. Weasley put James back on the ground where he promptly went over and climbed up onto the couch beside Pansy. Her eyes narrowed but she said nothing as she drew a small pile of folded clothes from an inner pocket of her cloak and placed them on the table in the center of the train track.

“Thank you, Molly,” Harry told her. “I really appreciate it. I’m no good with sewing spells.” It was on the tip of his tongue to mention that Pansy was a dress designer, thinking sewing might be something the two witches had in common, but decided that wasn’t the time, given the look on her face.

“Yes, well, you’re quite welcome. Anything I can do to help. You know that.” She straightened her cloak. “Right then. I’ll be going. James, come give me a kiss.”

The toddler hopped down from the couch and obediently did as bidden. 

“Bye-bye, Gran,” he said.

“Goodbye, lovey,” his grandmother replied. “Goodbye, Harry. Will you be dropping James off at the usual time tomorrow?”

“Yes. Thanks again for the clothes, Molly.”

“It was nice to see you, Mrs. Weasley,” Pansy offered a smile, but the older witch didn’t reciprocate. 

“You as well. Goodbye.” Stepping into the fireplace, she tossed some floo powder and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

“That was awkward,” she laughed nervously. “She hates me.”

Harry squeezed Pansy’s shoulder and started to round the couch to sit beside her.

“No, she doesn’t,” he replied. “She hates what you are. And what you aren’t.” Before she could ask him what he meant by that, James yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes. “Looks like someone’s ready for a nap.”

“No!” The toddler protested. “No nap!”

Harry scooped him up before a meltdown could start. “Pansy brought you a present you can take to nap with you.”

“That’s right,” she chimed in, standing up to get the bag. “I’d forgotten all about it.”

“Present?” 

“Yes. I got this for you when your dad and I went to the museum yesterday.” She removed the stuffed bear and held him out to the child. “His name is Winnie the Pooh.”

James took the soft toy from her and hugged him. “Pooh.”

“All right, mate. Let’s go introduce Pooh to Norbert,” said Harry.

“Have a good nap, James,” said Pansy, running a hand down the back of his head.

While Harry took James upstairs, she ended the spell that was making the toy train go around the track and carried their mugs back to the kitchen, the contents now cold. She dumped them into the sink and set to washing them, her mind going back to what Harry had said about Molly not hating her, but hating what she was and wasn’t. What was she, exactly? Lost in thought, she didn’t hear him return and come up behind her. She jumped when she felt his hands at her waist.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of her head. She turned around to face him, trapped between him and the sink. He could see she was thinking about something. “What’s wrong?”

“What did you mean when you said Mrs. Weasley doesn’t hate me, she hates what I am and what I’m not?”

Harry’s hands were still at her waist, and he pulled her a little closer so their bodies were touching. With one hand, he tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes.

“I meant, she doesn’t hate Pansy Parkinson, she hates the witch who was sitting in my house, drinking my tea, playing with my son. The witch that isn’t her daughter. But that is something Molly has to come to terms with, because I want you to keep sitting in my house, drinking my tea, playing with my son.” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “And I want to keep doing this.”

Pansy’s pulse sped up and she knew he was going to kiss her. Her lips curved into a smile right before his touched them. Harry felt her smiling and couldn’t help but smile back, making the kiss awkward and they broke apart, both chuckling a little. She put her arms around his waist and hugged him, putting her head on his shoulder. Then she looked up at him again, her hands rubbing up and down his back.

“I’m glad, because I want to keep doing all those things too,” she said, and watched as his green eyes turned a shade darker before he bent his head to kiss her again, passionately this time; making her cling to him and whimper a little when his teeth nipped gently at her bottom lip.

The sound made Harry’s blood run hot and he pushed her back against the sink with his hips, letting her feel his growing arousal as he continued to kiss her. Pansy’s head swam with conflicting emotions as her body responded to his, but her mind told her they needed to slow down. She was rescued from any decision making by the sound of the floo for the second time that afternoon. He pulled his mouth from hers.

“Bloody hell,” he ground out between his teeth. “Who is it now?”

That question was answered and Pansy stiffened in his arms when they heard a familiar voice.

“Harry! You here?”

“It’s Ron,” she whispered, burying her face in his shirt. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. 

“I’ll go see what he wants,” he told her quietly and turned to leave the kitchen. She could hear the men talking.

“Harry! Mum said Pansy was here! What the hell? You said you were going on a date yesterday, you didn’t say she was going to spend the night!”

“Ron, calm down. She didn’t spend the night. She came over for brunch. We were playing with James when your mum came over. Unannounced and uninvited, I might add.”

“Since when does she need an invitation to see her grandson?”

“She doesn't. I’m sorry, Ron. I just don’t appreciate you -- or your mother -- making assumptions about Pansy.”

“Neither do I,” said Pansy, emerging from the kitchen, having smoothed her hair and straightened her dress. “Hello, Ron.”

Ron had the grace to look sheepish. He didn’t realize Pansy was still there or had heard his comments.

“Hello, Pansy,” he replied, looking at his shoes, unable to meet her eyes. Lavender was going to hex him stupid, he thought.

“Harry, I’m going to go,” she said, not wanting to be there for any additional conversation between the men.

“No, Pans, you don’t have to,” he objected, taking her hand.

“I do,” she insisted. “Besides, I need to finish my proposal for the Auror robes redesign. It’s due tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Harry acquiesced reluctantly, preparing to give Ron a piece of his mind once she was gone. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“Owl me.” She squeezed his hand. “Nice to see you, Ron. Tell Lavender I have those bridesmaids’ dress swatches ready for her.”

“Uh, I will,” the red-haired wizard said. 

Releasing Harry’s hand, she walked into the fireplace. The last thing she saw before she was pulled away into the floo network, were his green eyes looking intently into hers. After she had gone, he turned those eyes on his best friend.

“What the hell, Ron? Did your mum really tell you she thought Pansy had spent the night here?” Harry tried not to shout, not wanting to wake James. 

Finally taking his eyes off his shoes, Ron replied, “Not exactly.”

“Well, what exactly did she say?”

“She said she came over here to bring you some clothes she mended for James and, and Pansy was here. Sitting on the couch. Playing with James. That James said she did magic to make his train go.”

“Yes. Exactly. Ron, I told you. Pansy came over for brunch. I invited her over yesterday so that she could give James the present she bought him at the museum. We had pancakes and sausages and she cast a spell so his train went on the track by itself. He loved it.” Harry ran a hand through his hair.

“Merlin, do you really think if I was going to sleep with Pansy -- or anyone -- I’d do it with James in the house?”

“No. You’re right. I’m sorry, Harry. Mum was just so upset when she came back,” Ron apologized.

Harry dropped down onto the couch and Ron into an overstuffed chair. The two wizards looked at each other. Then Harry nodded.

“I get it. I do. I’m sure she was surprised to see Pansy. And I’m sure it wasn’t easy seeing another witch here. Where Ginny used to live. Playing with James.” Harry sat forward on the edge of the cushion and looked at his best friend, hands clasped together, elbows resting on his open knees.

“But Ron. She is going to have to come to terms with the fact that Ginny is dead but I am not. I told you. James deserves a mum. As for Pansy -- “ He took a breath in through his nose and exhaled slowly. “I like her, Ron.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Yeah, well, I really like her. James likes her too; and she, surprisingly, is good with him.” He smiled and Ron saw an expression on his friend’s face he hadn’t in quite a while. He looked happy.

“I’ll talk to Mum,” Ron promised.  “Or maybe have George do it. He’s her favorite.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think about Molly's reaction! And everything else of course!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy has some girl talk with Hermione, delivers her Auror robe proposal to the Ministry and gets a visit from Molly Weasley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Here’s a nice longish chapter for you as a reward for waiting.
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think!

Pansy did go home, but after changing clothes, she left again to go see Hermione. She needed to talk to someone about Molly’s appearance at Harry’s house and what Ron thought had happened.

“Hermione? Draco?” She called after arriving in their fireplace. Like Harry, she had learned to wait before stepping out, to make sure her friends weren’t enjoying any marital relations outside of the bedroom.

“I’m in here,” came a voice from the dining room. Pansy entered the room to see her friend with parchments spread about the table, reminding her of their days at Hogwarts when Hermione would spend hours in the library.

“Hermione, what are you doing? Studying?”

“Um, no. Just a little research.” The curly haired witch hastily gathered the parchments into a pile, but Pansy picked up a small box from the table.

“Ovulation predictor kit?” she read the label. “What’s this?”

“A muggle thing that is supposed to tell you when you’re ovulating. When is the best time for you to try and get pregnant.” Hermione snatched it from her friend’s hand and put it back on the table.

“Does it work? Why would you use it? Isn’t there a spell that does the same thing?” Pansy asked.

“I don’t know if it works. I haven’t tried it yet. And yes, there is a spell but I must not be doing it right, because it’s not telling me anything. So I thought I’d try this. I’m also using a basal thermometer to track my temperature every morning. That’s what this is.” She indicated the parchments. “Temperature charts.”

“Is that another Muggle thing?” the other witch asked, and when Hermione nodded, added with a smile, “Harry was right. He said you were wanting a baby.”

“That’s right, you were having brunch with them today.” Hermione changed the subject. “How did that go? Over so soon?”

Pansy sat down at the table next to her friend. “It was going great until Molly Weasley showed up. Honestly, Hermione, I would not want to be at business end of her wand!”

“Oh, no! She was angry you were there?”

“Harry said she wasn’t mad at me personally, but upset because I’m not Ginny. Then Ron came over and asked Harry if I’d spent the night!” Pansy’s cheeks got pink at the thought.

“He didn’t! Did you hex his sorry freckled arse?” Hermione exclaimed.

“No, I just left. I think Harry was going to have it out with him, by the look on his face.”

“I’m sure he did. Harry’s not going to let Ron make those kind of assumptions,” she assured her.

“I know. But Hermione, I don’t want to cause problems with him and the Weasley’s,” Pansy said, frowning.

“Pans, Molly can be very possessive of her family and she has considered Harry part of her family since we were eleven,” said Hermione. “But Harry won’t stand by and let her treat you badly. He cares for you.”

“I care for him too,” Pansy admitted with a smile.

Pansy had told Harry to owl her, but she didn’t expect it to be that same day. When she returned home from visiting with Hermione, his large snowy owl was fidgeting impatiently on her window ledge, while Versace sat on the inside, his tail twitching. In his beak was a bouquet of flowers. Opening the window she took the flowers and untied the note on his leg. Giving him a treat, she said, “Wait so I can reply please.” after he fluffed his wings as if to fly away. She unrolled the parchment and read:

**Pansy,**

**I had a great time today. I’m sorry about Molly and Ron and that you left early. James asked for you after his nap. Can I see you tomorrow?**

**Yours,  
Harry**

She smiled and quickly penned a response:

**Harry,**

**I had a great time as well. I have to go to the Ministry tomorrow to drop off my proposal. I’ll come by your office if you’re going to be around. Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely. Give James a kiss for me.**

**Pansy**

She sent the owl back and set about putting the flowers in a vase and feeding Versace. Harry’s owl returned shortly with a response that he would be at the Ministry all day next. Pansy spent the rest of her Sunday polishing her proposal, thinking about her time spent with Harry and James and looking forward to seeing both of them again.

In the morning she dressed in one of her best sets of everyday robes as opposed to the muggle clothes she favored in her shop and floo’d into the Ministry Magic. It looked very different from the last time she’d been there as a child. She inquired of a friendly witch how to get to the Auror Department and was directed to a lift. Pansy lost track of the directions it went after going up, right and down, before coming to a stop. The doors opened and another reception-witch directed her to down a hall to the wizard in charge of receiving the new robe design proposals. Fifth office on the left, she was told. Walking down the hall, she stopped at the appropriate door. The nameplate on the wall said Harry Potter, Head Auror. Frowning, she knocked on the partially ajar door.

“Come,” said a voice and she pushed the door open to see Harry sitting behind his desk, head bent over a parchment. He didn’t look up. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Pansy waited, cradling her proposal against her chest, a small smile on her face as she watched him. Finally he scrawled his signature at the bottom of the parchment and lifted his head, his eyes lighting up and breaking into a smile when he saw her.

“Hey! I wondered when you would stop by.” He got up from his chair and came around the desk to press a brief kiss on her cheek, resting his hand at her waist. Her small smile grew.

“Hello, Harry,” Pansy said softly, savoring the feel of his lips against her skin and his nearness. “I wanted to turn in my proposal first, but I think I got lost.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“But --”

“Didn’t you read the instructions to submit it by owl?” he asked.

“No, because I always intended on bringing it in person,” she admitted. “Are you telling me you are in charge of choosing the new robe design and you didn’t tell me?”

“Not me alone. There’s a committee that will make the decision jointly, including the Minister. But I’m the one collecting the proposals to take to the committee,” he shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

“No. Oh, I feel stupid,” she said, sitting down in a chair near his desk. “Maybe I shouldn’t submit it.”

“Why would you say that?” Harry asked, sitting in the chair opposite her. “I’ve seen your work. I’m sure your designs are the best ones.” He took her proposal from her lap and placed it on his desk. “But I promise to look at them impartially, not just as your --” he broke off.

“My what?”

“I was going to say your boyfriend. Does that sound silly?” He grinned.

She leaned over and placed a palm against his cheek. “No. I think it’s sweet. But is that what you are now?” Pansy teased.

The grin faded from his face and he looked at her more seriously. “I’d like to be, Pansy, if you’ll have me.”

Equally seriously, she replied, “I will, Harry,” and leaned forward to kiss him. But before she could, they heard someone say,

“Mr. Potter -- oh! Excuse me!”

Both of them turned to see a young wizard standing in the doorway and quickly sat back in their chairs.

“It’s okay, Reginald,” said Harry, thinking he needed to remember to close his door from now on. “What did you need?”

“Um, here are some more proposals for the new robe design,” the wizard, who looked no more than seventeen, said. “They came via owl this morning.”

Harry stood and took took them from his outstretched hands, placing them on his desk with Pansy’s. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” replied Reginald, who then turned and walked away quickly.

“Sorry,” said Pansy. Harry shook his head and chuckled.

“He’s always like that. I don’t know if he’s afraid of me or what.”

“He’s probably in awe of you, Harry. You did do some pretty incredible things when you were about his age,” she told him.

He waved his hand, dismissing her comment. She rose from her chair to stand in front of him and placed a hand on his chest.

“Don’t be like that. You did,” she insisted. “If not for you, most of us wouldn’t be alive.” She moved to complete her interrupted kiss but he put a hand on her arm.

“Wait.” He waved his hand again; this time wandlessly closing the door. “That’s better. Now you may continue,” he said cheekily. She arched a raven eyebrow at him.

“Really? Maybe I don’t want to kiss you now.” Her voice was nonchalant but her pulse had sped up at the thought of kissing the green eyed wizard standing in front of her.

“Your mouth says that, but your eyes disagree,” he said, tugging on her robes, to make her step closer to him. “Have I ever told you your eyes look like the night sky?”

“No.” _Sweet Merlin, he could make her knees weak with just words_ , she thought. But before either of them could say or do anything else, there was a knock at the closed door.

“Bugger,” Harry muttered.

“Well, this is your office,” Pansy said, stepping away to put some distance between them, hoping it would calm her heart rate. “I should get back to the shop, anyway. I have appointments today.”

He looked at his watch. He had an appointment also. That’s probably who was on the other side of the door. There was a second knock.

“Do you just want to floo from here?” he offered. He wasn’t hiding Pansy from anyone, but really didn’t feel like explaining himself, either.

“Okay.” She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and stepped into the fireplace. “I’ll talk to you later, maybe.”

Once the smoke had cleared, Harry straightened his robes and went to open the door, hoping he’d be able to concentrate on work the rest of the day. Back at her shop, Pansy had a hard time keeping her thoughts from the handsome wizard. Twice she stuck herself with pins and had to mutter a spell to scourgify the blood droplets from the fabric she was pinning, hoping the woman standing on the platform hadn’t heard her. By the time her clerk left, she was ready to lock the doors and head up to her flat. She’d turned the lights off in her office and was at the panel to shut off the lights in the shop when the door jingled.

“I’m sorry, we’re just closed,” she said, turning around to see Harry standing there.

The serious look on his face made her ask, “What’s wrong?” as he strode across the floor of the store, his robes flapping, saying, “I’m on my way to pick up James but I had to stop and do this. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Pansy was surprised at first, but quickly responded, wrapping her arms around his neck. She too, had been thinking about their twice-interrupted kiss in his office. It was a more aggressive kiss than they’d exchanged before, both of them expressing their pent up frustrations. Finally needing to take a breath, Pansy pulled away and rested her forehead on his chin.

“Me too,” she replied after a moment, looking up at him.

“I really wish I could stay but I’m trying to get James earlier these days,” he told her.

“It’s okay. He comes first.” She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, half wishing he’d invite her home for dinner with them and stepped out of his embrace. “Go. Before I ask you to stay.”

Harry cupped her face with his hands and kissed her once more. “Dinner tomorrow? Come to the house.”

“I can’t. Lavender’s bringing all the bridesmaids tomorrow evening. She wants them to help choose their dresses.” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Wednesday then?”

“Okay,” she nodded. “What time?”

“I’ll owl you when I leave work and you can meet us at home.”

“I can’t wait to see James again.” She smiled. “And you. Now go.” She gave him a little shove.

“Wednesday then.”

“Wednesday.”

Dinner that Wednesday turned into dinner every Wednesday and they fell into a comfortable routine that each week, Harry would owl Pansy before leaving work and she would meet him and James at their house. The first few weeks they took turns making dinner, but discovering he was the better cook, agreed Harry would prepare the meal while Pansy bathed James. After a few weeks of coming to the table with damp clothing, she learned to put up a shield charm to keep her clothes dry from the toddler’s exuberant splashing and Harry taught her the levitation technique to get the boy out of the tub when he protested too much. After dinner, they would read to him together, giving Pansy an education in Muggle children’s books. After goodnight kisses, the couple would retire to the living room to talk and exchange some kisses of their own, often leading to some serious snogging sessions. Pansy always stopped his hands when they roamed under her shirt or skirt and gently put an end to the sessions before they were both aroused past the point of losing control. Harry respected her actions without question, even though it often left him hard and aching once she’d gone home; giving him a few sleepless nights and more than a few vivid dreams about the two of them.

Their initial Sunday brunch became a regular occurance as well. It wasn’t always at the house; sometimes they would eat out and as the weather warmed, they would often take James to a park after. Most times, he eschewed riding in the stroller, and would run along ahead of them a little ways, pointing out birds and flowers. He loved being pushed on the swings, crying “Higher! Higher!” making Harry think he had inherited his and Ginny’s love of heights and couldn’t wait to take him flying. But his favorite part of the parks were the ponds with the fish and ducks. Once he saw people feeding them he asked, “Me feed ducks?” and the next visit they brought food for him to toss in the water. Harry was ready to bring a loaf of bread from the kitchen, but Pansy explained about an article she’d read in a Muggle newspaper about how not only is bread bad for the ducks nutritionally, but also the uneaten bread encourages the growth of algae and bacteria in the water, affecting the other inhabitants. She teased him about knowing something that he didn’t, making him pull her into an embrace for a kiss, telling her she was cute when she was smug. James wormed his way between them, saying, “Up. Hug too!” These outings got them talking about their own childhood experiences. Naturally, they were very different. Pansy was appalled and saddened when Harry told her about growing up with the Dursley’s and embarrassed she’d had such a privileged upbringing.

Harry and Pansy had been dating for about three months when her clerk appeared in her office and said she had a visitor. Having just seen Harry the day before on Sunday, Pansy wasn’t expecting him. Besides, now he just walked in unannounced. She stood up from her desk, shocked to see Molly Weasley standing in the doorway.

“Molly -- Mrs. Weasley -- what brings you here?” Pansy tripped over her words, wondering why on earth the older witch was there. Then her brain shifted to worry. “Is James all right?”

“Hello, Pansy dear. Yes, yes, he’s fine. Playing with Arthur when I left; digging in the garden I believe.” She held up a basket. “I brought some fresh tarts and thought perhaps you had time for tea.”

“Of course,” Pansy replied, now completely baffled, and bade Molly take a seat on the sofa while she went to heat the kettle. When she returned with the teapot and two cups, Molly had transfigured something into a small table and had unpacked her basket. Placing the tray on the table, Pansy sat down beside her, crossing her legs at the ankle and smoothing her dress, hoping it wouldn’t be considered too short.

The Weasley matriarch took a sip of her tea and said, “There’s no sense in making small talk. I have something I want to say.”

 _Merlin’s saggy balls, she’s going to tell me to stay away from Harry!_ Pansy thought with a rush of anger, gripping her tea cup so tightly she was afraid it was going to break.

“I want to apologize to you, Pansy.”

The words came as such a surprise compared to what she was expecting, that Pansy dropped her teacup. It landed in her lap, soaking her dress with hot tea. She sprang to her feet, trying to brush away the liquid.

“Here dear, allow me,” said Molly, drawing her wand, cleaning up the mess and drying her dress in an instant. Pansy sank back onto the sofa.

“Thank you.”

“Are you alright? You weren’t burned?”

“No, I’m fine,” she assured her. “Did - did you say you wanted to apologize to me?”

“Yes. I’m afraid I wasn’t very nice to you the time you were at Harry’s when I stopped by. It was just a little shock to see you sitting there playing with James, where Gin --” she broke off, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I understand. Harry explained that to me,” Pansy said gently, putting a hand on the older witch’s arm.

“Well, I realized I was being unfair to him. And James. Who talks about you all the time now, did you know?” Molly smiled. “It’s Pans this, and Pans that. He’s quite sweet on you. So is Harry.”

“I’m very fond of them both as well. But I’m not trying to take Ginny’s place, Molly. Harry tells James about her all the time.” She returned the smile. “He won’t let her be forgotten.”

“I know he won’t . So, then. Any chance you can give me peek at Lavender’s dress? She won’t tell me a thing. Thinks I’m going to tell Ron. As if he’d know chiffon from chantilly lace!”

The two witches shared a laugh, now knowing that any concerns Molly had about Harry and Pansy’s relationship had been put to rest.

“Sure. Come on, I’ll show you,” said Pansy, standing and leading Molly to the room where Lavender’s dress hung.

“Oh, it’s exquisite!” Molly exclaimed. “I knew it would be after seeing Hermione’s. You really do beautiful work, Pansy. If you ever need any help stitching, just let me know.”

“I may just take you up on that, with all the bridesmaids dresses. And in return, maybe you can teach me some recipes. I’m quite bad at cooking and poor Harry does it all when we have dinner each week,” Pansy admitted.

“I would love to help you improve your cooking, dear. Treacle tarts are Harry’s favorite you know. You come over one day and I’ll show you how to make them.”

She and Molly finished their tea, chatting about sewing and James and Harry and Pansy found herself liking her more and more. Mrs. Weasley was the epitome of motherhood, making everyone she came in contact with feel cared for. It made the younger witch sad that her own mother, Posey, was no longer alive; having been killed during the war. Phillip Parkinson had survived, but didn’t live long after, not able to bear that the love of his life was gone. After Molly left, Pansy sent an owl to Harry, telling him about the visit. His response said,

**I told you she didn’t hate you. Molly doesn’t hate anyone. Well, except maybe Voldemort, but I think she felt more sorry for him. I have to go away for a few days for work. Lunch tomorrow instead of dinner Wednesday?**

**H**


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

When Harry came to collect Pansy for lunch the next day he was sporting the beginnings of a beard he didn’t have on Sunday. It looked more than two days’ growth and she suspected it had been magically enhanced to grow faster. He greeted her with a kiss and she scratched her fingers in the short whiskers on his jaw.

“What’s this?”

“It’s for the mission. A bit of disguise. I’m using a disillusionment charm on my glasses too.”

He waved his wand at his face and his glasses disappeared, making his green eyes all the more vivid not hidden behind the lenses. Pansy caught her breath at how ruggedly handsome he looked.

“I like it.” She kissed him. “You can keep the beard. It’s pretty sexy.”

“Noted, Miss Parkinson.” He grinned, returning his glasses to view.

Over the meal Harry told her what he was permitted about the mission, which wasn’t much. He’d be back for Sunday brunch, he assured her. Pansy was a little concerned, but told herself he was more than capable of taking care of himself. He’d defeated the Dark Lord, after all.

“James is staying with Molly and Arthur, then?” she asked.

“He is. This is the first time he’s been with them more than a couple nights since he was a baby. I hope he’ll be okay.”

“I’m sure he will. As long as he has Norbert.”

“And Pooh, now too. He sleeps with both,” Harry told her, taking her hand where it lay on the table. She smiled, pleased her gift had become a favorite toy.

After lunch, they walked back to her shop to say goodbye. In the privacy of Pansy’s office, Harry took her in his arms and she put hers around his waist, looking up at him.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said realizing this was going to be the first time since they’d started dating there would be more than three days between seeing him.

“Me too,” replied Harry. “It will go by fast.”

“I hope so. Do you think Molly would let me come see James?”

“Of course!” He gave her a squeeze. “You could have your cooking lesson then, too.”

“She told you!” Pansy exclaimed. Her cheeks went pink and she tried to pull out of his embrace, but he held her firmly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Love, you don’t need to impress me with cooking.”

The term of endearment slipped out of his mouth without thinking and it surprised both of them at first. Then Harry moved a hand from her waist to cradle the back of her head under her hair and tip her head back. Pansy gazed into his eyes as his mouth descended on hers, then fluttered closed. It wasn’t the most passionate kiss they’d shared but slow and gentle and filled with emotion. When it ended, Pansy rested her head against Harry’s chest, her eyes still closed. She kept hearing him calling her ‘love’ in her head. It was a common term of endearment, but no man had called her that before. Not as an adult. She had been called that as a child, but it was different to hear it from Harry. She also had a feeling it wasn’t a term he used lightly, either. That made it all the more special. Pansy really wished he didn’t have to go away.

As if reading her mind, Harry said softly, “Pans, I need to go. We have a meeting this afternoon before we leave tonight.”

“You’ll be careful?” She looked up at him, her indigo eyes wide.

“I promise.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips, then grinned. “Hey, I’ve handled a basilisk, dragons and Voldemort. This is nothing. I’ll see you for brunch on Sunday, okay?”

“Okay.”

One last hug and Pansy walked him to the door of her shop. After he’d left she returned to her office, but had trouble concentrating on work. Finally she gave up and went upstairs to her flat. She changed into leggings and a jumper of Harry’s he’d loaned her one Sunday when they’d gone to the park and she’d gotten chilled. It still smelled of him. Gathering Versace onto her lap, she sat on the couch thinking about that first dinner at Hermione and Draco’s and then the not-so-accidental meeting, shopping with James, their first date and all the subsequent time they’d spent together since then. That evening she was heating some soup when she heard an owl at the window. Seeing the familiar snowy white feathers, she hurried over and opened it. He flew away as soon as she untied the parchment. Clearly she wasn’t expected to send a reply. Unrolling the message she read:

 

**Arrived at our location. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be home before you know it.**

**H**

 

She smiled that he thought to send her a quick note. The next few days did go faster than Pansy thought they would. She had several new brides come into the store as well as some muggle girls looking for formal gowns. She also decided to design a suit for James to wear for Ron and Lavender’s wedding, and started some preliminary sketches to show both Harry and Molly. It was Saturday before she knew it and she was excited to seeing Harry the next day for brunch. She was in the middle of cleaning her flat when an unfamiliar owl appeared in the window she’d opened as it was a warm day. Removing the parchment tied to its leg, her eyebrows went up as she read:

 

**Pansy dear,**

**Harry just owled to say he won’t be home tonight as planned. Arthur and I had made plans for tomorrow, as it’s our wedding anniversary. Would you be able to take James for the day? We can meet you at the house in Godric’s Hollow in the morning.**

**Regards,**

**Molly Weasley**

 

Her heart lurched at the knowledge Harry wasn’t going to be home when he said he would and then at the thought of watching James by herself. They got along fine when Harry was there but how would he be with her alone? Quashing her reservations she picked up a quill and scribbled a reply that of course she would and that she’d be at the house by 8 a.m. the next day.

Pansy was there before 8:00, nervous at the thought being alone with the two year old all day. She needn’t have worried, for as soon as the toddler saw her from Arthur’s arms as they arrived in the fireplace, he cried, “Pans!” and squirmed to be put down. Once on the floor, he ran to her, holding his arms up to be lifted into hers, which she gladly complied.

“James, how are you? I’m so glad to see you,” she told him, enjoying the feel of his little arms around her neck.

“Good.” He replied. “We have pancakes?”

Pansy felt a flash of panic. She’d forgotten she’d had to cook for him!

“Um, sure,” she said. “We can have pancakes.” And hoped Harry had a cookbook somewhere in the kitchen.

“Thank you, dear for doing this. We made these plans months ago,” Molly said to her, adding. “I believe Harry has some Muggle pancake mix in the cupboard.”

“Thanks,” she smiled gratefully at the other witch. “And it’s no problem at all. You two go and have a fabulous time. Happy Anniversary.”

“Thank you. Goodbye, James. You be good for Pansy.”

“Bye, Gran! Bye, Gramp!” James waved as the Weasley pair held hands and stepped back into the fireplace, disappearing in a poof of green smoke.

“All right, little man,” she said. “Let’s go see what we can make for breakfast, shall we?”

Pansy burned only a few pancakes before managing to get some edible ones, although James was disappointed she couldn’t flip them like Harry did. They had pancakes and bananas, milk for James and tea for her. After breakfast, they played with the toy Hogwarts Express and read some books. For lunch she was a little puzzled what to serve but the toddler was happy to eat some cheese and fruit and biscuits, along with more milk. After playing with his blocks for a little while, the boy began to yawn and Pansy declared it was nap time. Relieved to discover both Norbert and Pooh in the bag Molly brought back with him, she got the boy tucked into his crib and he was asleep in short order. She made herself a fresh cup of tea and sat down on the couch, surveying the toys strewn about the room. Pulling out her wand, she set to putting things back in their proper places. Then she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, wondering what had delayed Harry’s return.

Harry opted to apparate home directly instead of returning to the Ministry and using the floo network. Tired and in need of a shower and shave -- no, he was keeping the beard, he reminded himself, because Pansy said it was sexy, he thought with a grin, he landed outside the front door. He opened it quietly, knowing James was probably napping, expecting to see Molly sitting on the couch reading the latest copy of Witch Weekly while her knitting needles moved on their own, magically creating one of her famous jumpers. Instead, he was surprised to see his favorite, raven haired witch sitting on his couch, head back against the cushions, eyes closed and his heart gave a happy thump. He didn’t know why Pansy was there instead of Molly, but he was glad to see her, having missed her more than he expected in the few days he’d been gone. He stood, looking at her for another moment thinking how much he liked the fact she looked like she belonged in his house. Finally, he spoke.

“One morning with a two year old that exhausting, hmm?”

Her eyes flew open to see the subject of her thoughts coming through the front door, carrying a duffel.

“Harry!” She jumped to her feet and flew across the room into his arms. “I was just wondering when you’d be home. I missed you.” Pansy stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his, preventing him from replying for a moment.

“I couldn’t tell,” he teased, when she pulled away. He brushed her hair away from her face, and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I missed you too. And as much as I’d like to show you how much, I haven’t had a shower in days.”

She wrinkled her nose in mock disgust. “Why don’t you go shower before James wakes up? Because you know once he does, he’s not going to let you out of his sight.”

Harry knew Pansy was right. If he showered quickly, he might get a few more minutes alone with her while his son napped.

“Good idea.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head and headed for the stairs. She watched him disappear onto the second floor and a few minutes later heard water start running. Wondering if the sound would wake James, she climbed the stairs and tiptoed down the hall to the toddler’s room. Peeking inside, she saw he was still sleeping soundly. Turning to go back downstairs, she heard Harry’s voice calling her. She went to the closed bathroom door.

“Harry? Did you call me?”

“I did. I forgot a towel. Would you get one for me?”

“Of course.” Pansy was familiar with the linen closet from bathing James, retrieved a bath towel and returned to the bathroom. She hesitated with her hand on the doorknob, knowing her boyfriend was naked and wet on the other side. _Be an adult_ , she told herself. _Open the door, put the towel on the sink and leave._

Turning, the knob, she pushed open the door and a cloud of steam rushed out, dampening her skin and clothes. Harry’s glasses were on the sink, the lenses clouded with condensation; his discarded clothes on top of the closed toilet. The shower curtain was opaque, but there was a small window on the wall opposite and the light streaming through allowed Pansy to see the outline of his silhouette in profile as Harry tipped his head back into spray from the showerhead. Her mouth got dry at the thought of the water sluicing down his muscled shoulders, abdomen and…...lower. She put the towel on the sink top beside his glasses and retreated to the hallway, closing the door behind her. Swallowing, she spoke through the door.

“Towel’s on the sink, Harry.”

“Thanks, love.” Pansy heard the smile in his voice and it told her he knew she’d been in the bathroom. Her face got hot and she pushed damp strands of hair back from her forehead. Before she could dwell on the thought of Harry in the shower and feelings it stirred in her, she heard sounds from James’ room. Grateful for the distraction, she went into the boy’s room to find him sitting in his crib talking to Norbert and Pooh.

“Pans!” He said, seeing her, and stood up, holding out his arms. “Nap all done. Down please.”

Lifting him from the crib she nuzzled his neck, making him giggle. “Good nap, little man? Guess who’s home?”

“Daddy!” he cried.

“You’re so smart, James. Yes. Daddy’s home.”

“Daddy!” he repeated, and stretched his arms in the direction of the door.

Pansy turned her head and saw Harry standing the doorway, the towel she delivered now wrapped around his hips; his hair disheveled from being towel dried. A glance at his bare chest confirmed the musculature she’d suspected after the many times of being in his arms. It was also covered with a dusting of dark hair from his clavicles to pecs and then began again around his navel, disappearing under the towel. Her mouth went dry again as their eyes met. His twinkled and he held out his arms to take James from her.

“Come on, mate. Keep me company while I get dressed. Then we’ll go outside and play.”

Pansy fled downstairs to the kitchen where she ran cool water from the tap over her wrists and splashed some on her face. Then she filled a glass and downed it in one breath. By the time father and son came downstairs, she had composed herself outwardly, even though every time she looked at Harry, whose chest was now covered in a short sleeved t-shirt and his legs encased in a pair of well worn jeans, she saw the towel and bare skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if you’re interested in the songs I associate with this story, check out my playlist on Spotify. It’s called Pots & Pans.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a normal Sunday afternoon at the Potter household. James plays in the sandbox, Pansy and Harry talk, then Harry takes James for a ride on his broom. After dark, oh, the romance! Then, Pansy makes a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reasons that you'll understand as you read, I had to give Harry's owl a name. Wish I had done it sooner, but if you're confused about who Fiona is; she's the owl who replaced Hedwig.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! The next chapter is already started in my head.
> 
> Note added 03/24/18: I was misinformed and thought Charlie Weasley was the oldest. I’ve corrected Harry’s comment to say that Bill is the oldest.

Harry and Pansy took James out into the backyard to play. The first time she’d been out there, Pansy was surprised how big the yard was. There was an average sized grassy area with trees, a swing set and a sandbox. Beyond it, however, stretched a wide open field. Harry had explained that they bought the house because it had all the extra land and Ginny used it for Quidditch practice. Usually James wanted to be pushed on a swing but that day he made a beeline for the sandbox. Harry transfigured a nearby chair into one big enough for them to sit together and he drew her close, his arm around her shoulders. The late May sun warmed them as they watched James dig in the sand.

“Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but why are you here instead of Molly? When I owled her I wouldn’t be home until today she just said James would be here instead of at The Burrow.”

“Today is her and Arthur’s wedding anniversary and they had plans made months ago, she said, so she asked if I’d come sit with James,” Pansy explained.

“I guess it is,” Harry replied, thinking about the date. “I’m rubbish at keeping track of things like that. Ginny always did that.” His voice trailed off.

“You’re allowed to talk about her, you know.” Pansy said gently, putting a hand on his leg. “How long have Molly and Arthur been married?”

“I dunno. Bill’s the oldest and he’s nearing 40. I don’t know how long they were married before he was born. But I know they got married straight out of school,” he told her.

“Like you and Ginny. When was your anniversary?” Pansy asked. Since she wasn’t friends with him or Hermione back then, she hadn’t been invited to the wedding.

“June 30. Ten days after she finished school. She was so funny.” He smiled. “She didn’t care about exams at all; didn’t understand why she had to take them. She’d already signed her contract to play with the Harpies; that and the wedding was all she wanted to talk about those last few weeks.

“Hermione was beside herself that Ginny didn’t want to study and even offered to go help her review. Gin declined that offer quite, er, vigorously.” Harry chuckled. “Via Howler. She really was her mother’s daughter.”

Pansy burst out laughing. “I love it! I wish we’d been friends back then. I think Ginny and I would have gotten along famously.”

“I think you would have too,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to her temple. Just then James came running over and crawled up in their laps. “Done in the sand, James?”

“Done! Ride broom, Daddy?”

“You want to ride a broom, do you? Which broom do you want to ride? Yours or mine?”

“Daddy’s broom. Go high!” The toddler smiled at the thought and Pansy saw Harry in his expression.

“All right. It’s been a while since we had a ride.” Harry stood and put the boy atop his shoulders. He turned to Pansy. “Do you want to ride, too? We have plenty of brooms?”

She shook her head. “No, thanks. I haven’t been on a broom since school. I probably need to start over on James’ trainer. I’ll just watch you two.”

Pansy always enjoyed the feeling of freedom that flying a broom gave her, but she certainly wasn’t going to get on one in front of Harry, when his two year old could probably ride better than she after all the years since she’d done it last. She watched as they retrieved Harry’s broomstick from a shed adjacent to the house, James face alight with excitement. Harry carried it to the far end of the yard where the grass met the field. He lowered James from his shoulders while he mounted, and with skill honed from years of flying, hovered with his feet barely off the ground in order to pick up the boy and settle him in front of him on the broom. Giving Pansy a little wave, he gradually increased their elevation to rooftop height while moving forward over the field, staying at a moderate speed; although she had no doubt he could hold onto his son and fly as fast as he used to on the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts.

Father and son became a speck on the horizon as they went far into the field. She saw them returning and as they approached, heard James squealing, “Higher, Daddy! Higher!” He went to clap his hands as Harry increased the elevation and Pansy heard the deeper voice say, “Hands on the broomstick, James.” They made pass over her and headed back out into the field for another loop. The sun was low in the sky by the time they returned and Harry again hovered; this time near Pansy and handed her the child. His cheeks were pink from the wind, but his hazel eyes sparkled with exhilaration.

“Once more around for me and then it’s bath time, mate,” Harry said, flipping the broom around on a dime and accelerating so quickly, both Pansy’s and James’ hair flew around their faces.

James clapped his hands and laughed. “Daddy go fast!”

“Yes, he is,” she agreed, laughing with him as she watched Harry climb high in the sky, do a roll and plummet toward the ground before leveling off and heading back in their direction. He pulled up sharply when he reached the pair and jumped off, his own eyes now sparkling like his son’s had. Pansy smiled broadly at him, relishing in his enjoyment.

“I need to do that more often,” he said, grinning, and running his hands through his hair, trying to tame it.

“So do it.” She shifted James to her hip.

“I will. But right now, someone needs a tub. You’re staying for dinner?”

“Sure,” Pansy smiled. “I’ll bathe while you cook.”

The three of them walked into the house together. Harry headed for the kitchen and she up the steps to the bathroom. A short while later, Pansy and James joined him. The latter sweet-smelling and sleepy, the former just a little damp.

“You should see the sand in the tub,” she told Harry, strapping the boy into his highchair.

James barely made it through the meal without falling asleep. His father unbuckled him and gently lifted him free of the chair, cradling his head on his shoulder. Pansy stood and kissed his cheek.

“Good night, James. Sweet dreams.”

While Harry tucked the toddler into bed, Pansy cleaned up the dinner dishes. She heard him coming back down the stairs and turned from the sink where she’d been looking out the window at the stars in the evening sky.

“There are so many stars out tonight,” she said, holding her hand to him. “Come look.”

“I know a better place to see them,” he replied, taking her hand and pulling her in the opposite direction. He led her out the door into the backyard to the chair where they’d sat earlier. Transfiguring it into a lounger, he sat down and leaned against the slanted back, drawing her down to sit between his legs, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Now look,” he said quietly into her ear.

Pansy leaned back against his chest and looked up into the clear sky at the thousands of stars twinkling above. There were too many lights where her flat was to see more than the brightest stars, even if she went up on the roof.

“Wow,” she breathed, “I feel like I can almost reach out and touch them.”

Abruptly, Harry sat up, putting her away from him and stood from the lounger.

“Harry? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Wait here.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head and jogged into the house, leaving her puzzled. A minute later he returned, wearing a jumper and carrying one which he handed to her. “Put this on.”

While she was tugging it over her head, wondering what he was up to, Harry went to the broomstick shed and returned carrying the broom he’d ridden earlier. Then he took Pansy’s hand and pulled her to her feet.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Taking you to touch the stars.” Her eyes widened when she realized he intended to take her up on the broom.

“Harry, what about James? What if he wakes?”

“He won’t, but if he does, Fiona will fly out and find us. She’ll sit in his window until we get back,” he assured her, taking her hand. “I saw the look on your face when I was flying today. You wanted to be up there.”

“I did,” Pansy admitted. “But it’s been a long time. And I’ve never been on a broom with someone else. Or at night.”

“Trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s go.” He mounted the broom.

“How do I sit?”

“However you want.”

Harry’s legs were bent to hold the broom low enough for her to mount it. Since she was wearing jeans, Pansy flung a leg over the broom and grasped it with both hands, her heart pounding with both a little fear and excitement. She squeaked with surprise when they lifted off the ground, and clutched the handle tighter.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, love.” Retaining his hold on the broom with one hand, Harry curled the other around her waist and held her against his chest, like he’d done when they took the tube to the museum in London. As he’d done with James on the broom, he rose slowly in the air to rooftop height.

“Higher?” He asked and she felt his breath against her hair. She nodded and they ascended until the homes below were like toys and out into the field where there were no spots of artificial lighting. Then he stopped, hovering the broom and said, “Look at the stars now.”

Pansy had been looking and it was even more amazing. She truly felt like she could reach out and touch them.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, loosening her grip on the broom handle and relaxing back against Harry, feeling safe in his embrace.

“No more than you,” he whispered back.

She turned her head and leaned it against his shoulder. Their eyes met first and then their lips. Removing one hand from the handle to reach behind his head and pull him closer, she opened her mouth to accept his tongue that danced sensuously with hers. The stars she’d been looking at with her eyes open, danced behind Pansy’s closed lids. Harry’s arm that was around her waist slid up under the jumper and his hand brushed the underside of her breast. Even though it was over her blouse and bra beneath, she moaned quietly as his touch sent a wave of desire through her veins.

Harry pulled his mouth from hers, his arm still holding her tightly, and said huskily, “Love, I can’t do this and keep us in the air. Hold on, I’m taking us down.”

Pansy moved her hand from behind his head to his shoulder and clung to him as they descended. Once they reached the grass he let the broom fall to the ground between his legs. Keeping the one arm around her waist, he put his other one behind her knees and scooped her up bridal style, while she put both hands around his neck, her heart beating wildly. Harry carried her into the house and lowered her onto the couch; then knelt over her, one knee between hers. His green eyes stared intently into her indigo ones before lowering his head to kiss her once more.

Ever since seeing Harry’s bare chest earlier that day she’d been thinking about what it would feel like to touch his skin. As they kissed, Pansy tentatively put her hands beneath his jumper and ran her hands up his back over the t-shirt he wore, then back down and plucked at it where it was tucked in his jeans, pulling it free. When her fingertips touched his bare back, he shivered, pulling his lips from hers to kiss down the side of her neck.

“Don’t stop,” he muttered against her skin and she ghosted her fingers up his spine, raising gooseflesh.

Boldly, Pansy flattened her palms against his sides and caressed down to his waist and around the front of his torso to his abs, that contracted at her touch. He was supporting his weight on one arm, but the other hand moved beneath her jumper to the buttons on her blouse. The part of her brain that told her she should stop him was being drowned out by the thrumming in her veins that made her want to feel his touch. She arched up into his hand.

Harry unbuttoned the top button and then another one and another, until he reached the waistband of her jeans and pulled the silky fabric out, freeing the last two buttons. He was waiting for Pansy to stop him, like he had the other times he had tried to touch her like this. When she didn’t, he caressed the soft skin of her stomach and rib cage, then cupped his hand around her breast encased in the satiny fabric of her bra. Gently at first, but then with a more firm touch, slowly moving his thumb across her nipple that hardened as he grazed over it. It sent a wonderful tingling sensation straight to her feminine core as if the two body parts were connected. Pansy gasped his name, clutching at his back and he halted the motion.

“Do you want me to stop?” He pulled his head back and looked at her face. Her eyes were closed. “Pansy, look at me.” She opened her eyes and he saw desire and uncertainty in them.

“Do you want me to stop?” Harry repeated his question gently. He wanted to keep touching her, loving her, but he would stop if she said yes.

“I - I don’t know,” she whispered. “No one has ever -- I’ve never…..”

It took a moment for her words to sink in, but he realized what she was trying to tell him and he removed his hand from under her jumper and cupped her face with it, looking into her eyes the color of the sky they’d been flying in minutes earlier.

“What are you saying, love?”

Pansy swallowed and said quietly, “I’m a virgin, Harry.”

She felt relieved and embarrassed to finally admit that to him. Her face had been flushed from his kisses and touch, but it reddened a little more, and she tried to press it against his chest. He held her chin firm with his hand.

“No, don’t hide. This isn’t something to be ashamed of, sweetheart.” He gently kissed her cheek.

“But you’re —“

“I’m what? I was married. But it’s not like I’ve had dozens of witches. Before or since Ginny.

“Pansy, listen. Ginny was my first and I was hers,” Harry told her. “There hasn’t been anyone since. Not for lack of witches throwing themselves at me. I am quite the eligible wizard according to the gossip columns, you know,” he joked, making her smile a little. He ran his thumb across her cheek as she did. “That’s better.”

“I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner, but I thought maybe you knew; that Hermione had said something since she was the one who set us up,” Pansy said.

“She wouldn’t do that. It’s not her place,” Harry told her.

They were still laying on the couch, her hands still beneath his T-shirt where she had taken to moving her fingers in random patterns against his skin without thinking, while they talked. Now she realized what she was doing and began to remove them.

“You don’t have to stop that,” he said. “I like you touching me.”

“I like touching you,” Pansy admitted, repeating the action of running her fingertips up his spine like before, making him hum with pleasure and close his eyes. Then he opened them again.

“Pansy.”

“Yes, Harry.”

“My arm’s gone numb.” He indicated the one he’d been leaning on to keep most of his weight off of her, and started to laugh.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” She pulled her hands from beneath his shirt and he pushed himself to his knees on the cushions using his other arm and she scrambled to sitting. The change in position brought blood flowing back into his arm and he winced at the tingly feeling, shaking the limb and flexing his hand to make it go away.

“Ah, that’s better,” he said after a moment. The intimate moment broken, Pansy realized it was time she headed home.

“Harry, I should go. I’m sure you have a busy day tomorrow. Just back and all.”

“I do.” He nodded. “Paperwork. Debriefing.”

She stood up from the couch, feeling torn about leaving. The more time she spent at the house in Godric’s Hollow, the less she wanted to return to her flat. Alone. Harry saw it in her eyes and stood as well, putting his arms around her.

“You don’t have to go. You can stay. To just...sleep.”

She smiled and rested her head against his shoulder, arms around his waist, then shook her head.

“No. Maybe another time.” She went up on tiptoe to kiss him. “Good night, Harry. I lo— “ Pansy stopped when she realized the words that almost spilled from her lips and changed them quickly. “I loved the broom ride. Next time maybe I’ll try flying myself.”

“That would be fun,” he agreed, not having noticed the adjustment. “Good night.”  
  
Pansy stepped into the fireplace and was back in her own flat seconds later, greeted by Versace who wound himself around her legs. She walked into her bedroom and began undressing for bed, lost in thought. Had she really just almost said I love you? Yes, she had. The words had come to her lips without conscious thought. _Merlin_ ’s _beard!_ she thought, _I’m in love with Harry Potter!_


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A romantic gesture, Pansy gets some good news, she and Hermione have some girl talk time and Harry goes to Ron's bachelor party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, nothing belongs to me except this plot, inspired by a request from Trinkisme!
> 
> Please let me know what you think!

If Pansy thought she’d been distracted with thoughts of the green eyed wizard before, the next two days she could barely concentrate on anything. Not a sketch. Instead of sleeves, she found herself drawing little hearts. Not sewing. The needle would pause in mid air as she forgot to continue the spell, having drifted into a daydream about riding the broom again with Harry. The appointments she had were the worst, because she had to remember to make conversation. She kept going over the things they’d done and what she’d nearly said. Taking her up on the broom to look at the stars was one of the most romantic things she’d ever experienced. She wondered how he could possibly top it, but was sure that somehow, Harry would. She didn’t hear from him Monday, but didn’t expect to, knowing he was likely busy with post mission things. The next day, she received a bouquet of starflowers with a card:

 

_So you can look at the stars during the day. Until tomorrow._

 

On Wednesday, she was wishing time would move faster so she could see him again when her assistant came in carrying a roll of parchment with an official Ministry of Magic seal on it. Breaking the wax she unrolled it and read:

 

_Miss Parkinson,_

_It is with great pleasure that we award you the contract for the new robes for the Ministry of Magic, Auror Department. Your designs were by far the best ones received and were a unanimous choice by the review board. You will receive an additional owl containing a contract and information on the initial payment for your services._

_If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me._

_Most Sincerely,  
_ _Harry J. Potter  
_ _Head Auror_

 

Pansy had to read it through a second time before the words sank in. Then she gave a shriek that brought her assistant running. Assuring her it was nothing bad she said, “I’ll be back.” and apparated on the spot to her flat upstairs and rushed to the fireplace, parchment clutched in one hand. Without giving a thought whether Harry was alone in his office or not, she tossed the floo powder and called out the location. Seconds later she was standing there, looking at his surprised face. He had been sitting at his desk and stood up when she appeared in his fireplace.

“Harry! Why didn’t you tell me?” she cried, waving the parchment and throwing herself at him, flinging her arms around neck and kissing him. “I can’t believe they picked me!”

“Pansy, um, what are you doing here?” He hugged her briefly and disengaged her arms from his neck. Before she could register that he didn’t seem happy to see her, a deep voice spoke from behind her.

“Nice to see you, Miss Parkinson.” Pansy spun around to see the Minister of Magic himself sitting in the one of the chairs in front of Harry’s desk. She hadn’t noticed him in her excitement.

“Oh, Merlin’s saggy -- I mean, Minister, I didn’t see you there,” she stumbled over her words, her face burning with embarrassment.

“It’s quite alright, Miss Parkinson,” he said. “It seems congratulations are in order, yes? I’ve heard a lot of good things about your work.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry, I was just a little excited.”

He waved his hand and stood. “No apologies necessary. Harry and I were about finished here. I’ll let you to your, er, celebration.” He winked at Harry, who then took a turn at blushing. “Goodbye, Harry. Miss Parkinson.”

With a quiet swish of his robes, he was out the door smoothly, closing it behind him. Pansy sank into Harry’s chair, covering her face with her hands.

“Bugger me, Harry,” she said, her voice muffled. “I can’t believe I did that in front of the Minister of Magic. If I’d known you weren’t alone I wouldn’t have -- I’m so sorry!” She looked up at him, tears of embarrassment in her eyes.

Harry crouched down in front of her and took her hands in his.

“Pansy, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be sorry for. You were excited and rightly so. You earned that contract.”

“And now the minister will probably take it away and give you an earful!” she exclaimed.

“No, he won’t. To either. I was just telling him about you and I, actually.”

“You were?”

“I was. I was telling him about the beautiful, talented, raven haired witch with indigo eyes who has captured my heart. And James’.”

He offered her a smile and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and leaned in to kiss her. Then he stood, pulling her out of the chair.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ll get James early and go for dinner somewhere to celebrate. No?” He asked, seeing the look on her face.

“I’m all for getting James early and celebrating, but I was looking forward to spending time with you tonight at home,” Pansy confessed.

“How about we split the difference and get take away? There’s an Italian place in town that has noodles James likes.” Harry suggested, thinking he’d rather spend the evening with Pansy at home rather than a restaurant as well.

Dinner was chicken and veal for the adults and noodles for James, which reminded Pansy of their shopping trip and dinner on Valentine’s Day, when neither of them had realized it was the holiday. Watching him eat, she realized his self-feeding skills had improved since then, even though it felt like it was only yesterday. Reaching over to brush his hair from his forehead where it was in danger of hanging into his eyes, she said,

“Someone is going to need a haircut before the wedding.”

“Both of us,” Harry agreed, running his hand through his own unruly locks. “I’ll ask Molly if she’ll do it.”

“I can do it,” Pansy told him, surprising herself at volunteering for such a domestic task. She cut fabric on a regular basis, both by hand and magically and trimmed her own hair on occasion. How hard could it be to cut Harry and James’?

“Okay. Sure. Not his tonight, when he’s tired. This weekend? Because, wait -- is the wedding next weekend?”

“It is, Harry. Had you forgotten when your best friend’s wedding was?” she teased as she cleaned James’ hands and face, since he had pushed his plate away, now empty of noodles.

“I guess I did,” he said sheepishly, not going to admit that lately his thoughts had been primarily on her and James, then work; with Ron’s wedding firmly in last place.

She lifted James out of his chair and placed him on the floor so he could go into the other room and play with his train since they had eaten earlier than usual. They worked together to clean up the dishes with an easy familiarity. Pansy washed and Harry dried. Then they carried the glasses of elf-made wine from the bottle Harry opened in celebration into the other room where James had moved from his train to blocks that he was stacking on the floor.

“What are you making there, James?” his father asked, sitting down on the couch. Pansy kicked off her shoes and curled up beside him, folding her legs beneath her.

“A tastle,” the boy replied.

“A tassel?” Pansy asked.

“Yes. A tastle! Like Ho-warts. Train goes to the tastle.” James vocabulary skills had improved too, but some of his words were still a puzzle to her.

“Oh! A castle! Like Hogwarts. Got it.” She laughed and leaned into Harry. He moved his arm to encircle her and she snuggled closer, sipping her wine.

“So speaking of the wedding,” he said. “You’re going right? With me. I mean, we’re going together, aren’t we?”

Mentally he chastised himself for tripping over his words. Sometimes her nearness turned him into a fourth year again, trying to pluck up the courage to ask a girl to the Yule Ball. She looked up at him through her lashes (and he could have sworn she batted them at him as well) and said coquettishly,

“Harry Potter, are you asking me to be your date to the wedding?”

“I, um…..”

Pansy burst into giggles. “Of course we’re going together!” she told him. “I can’t wait to see you in your tuxedo.”

“My what?”

“Your tuxedo. Lavender has the men in muggle formal wear, not robes. Didn’t Ron tell you?”

“No. Maybe.” Harry knew what a tux was, but the last time he wore one was his own wedding. He thought maybe it was in the back of his closet, but he wasn’t sure. Before he could think on it further, James came over and climbed up on the couch next to Pansy, rubbing his eyes.

“Are you tired, sweetie?” she pulled him onto her lap and he snuggled into her.

“No,” he replied with a yawn, making her and Harry chuckle.

“Okay, mate. But I think it’s time for bed anyway,” his father said, standing up and reaching for him. “Let’s go find Norbert.”

“Pans do,” the toddler said, putting his arms around her neck. She looked up at Harry, surprised. James had never asked for her to put him to bed before. She’d bathed him herself and helped Harry with the bedtime routine many times, but had never done it herself.

“Pans do,” he repeated yawning again and burrowing his head into her shoulder.

“Do you mind?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she said. Harry helped her rise from the couch holding the sleepy child.

By the time they got to his room, he was all but asleep. Pansy managed to get him into his pyjamas adorned with golden snitches and into bed, tucking him in with Norbert and Pooh.  She stood beside his crib, looking down at the child with a wave of maternal longing that surprised her. Pushing his hair off his forehead, she bent over the railing to kiss him. Then she whispered, “Good night, James. I love you.”

Harry had been standing in the hallway and overheard her sentiment, but hurried to his own room when she stepped away from the crib. _She loved James? Did that mean she loved him too?_ Pansy turned from James’ crib. She thought Harry had been standing in the doorway but it was empty. She went into the hallway and quietly called his name. The reply came from the room she knew to be his two doors away, although she had never been in it.

Her stomach had butterflies as she went to find him. At the doorway she stopped and looked into the room, expecting to see him. It was empty so she took a moment to examine it. A king size four-poster bed that looked far too similar to the ones in the dorms at Hogwarts to be coincidental dominated the room. Instead of bedding in house colors, the mattress was covered in a quilt that was clearly handmade, probably by Molly Weasley or another Weasley relative. In the middle of it was a large P. Matching nightstands flanked it. Both had lamps but one also had a book laid open on the top, along with what Pansy recognized as Harry’s wand. The other was bare save for the lamp. A heavy framed mirror hung over a dresser on which were several framed photos of James and a tray with Harry’s wristwatch, Auror’s badge and….she stepped closer, a plain band of gold. Now feeling like she had snooped too far, Pansy spoke.

“Harry?”   
  
“In here,” came the reply from the closet. She crossed the room and stopped at what was the entrance to a closet that had clearly been magically extended.

“What are you doing?”

He was all but hidden behind hangersful of clothes. “Looking for….ha! Found it!” Harry backed out of the row of robes and shirts and turned around, holding a hanger on which hung a black tuxedo.

“I knew it was here somewhere. The last time I wore it was when Ginny and I got married. She did the muggle formalwear thing too. Probably doesn’t fit.” He patted his flat stomach with a grin. Pansy rolled her eyes.

“I doubt that, but I think I can help you out if it doesn’t,” she said with a smile. “Why don’t you try it on?”

Harry put the hanger on a nearby hook and reached for his belt, raising an eyebrow at her. Laughing and blushing just a little, Pansy retreated to the bedroom where she sat on the edge of the bed. A few minutes later he emerged from the closet wearing the tuxedo. Even worn with his casual shirt he looked handsome. But Pansy’s trained eye could tell the suit needed to be altered. She walked over and put her hands on his shoulders and ran them down his arms.

“It needs let out just a little. It’s tight across the shoulders and in the arms. All those muscles you have, Auror Potter,” she said, eyes twinkling.

“All the better to hold you with, Miss Parkinson,” he replied, pulling her into an embrace.

She slid her hands back up to go around his neck, humming in agreement, before pulling his head down to kiss him; something they’d both been wanting to do all evening. As usual, Harry’s kisses sent desire spiraling through Pansy. But she was all too aware of the large bed just feet away from them and she ended the kiss, resting her forehead on his chest. Then she gently pushed him away and said,

“Go take that off. I’ll need to take it home with me to make the alterations.”

Harry shrugged off the jacket and handed it to her, then turned to walk back into the closet to change out of the pants. While he was out of sight, he spoke, “So all the grandkids are staying with Molly and Arthur after the wedding. Give all the parents a break, she said. I think she just wants all the little ones together under one roof now that her last child will be gone.”

He emerged from the closet with the pants over his arm, now redressed in the ones he’d had on previously.  “So I was thinking,” he swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous, “maybe you could stay here that night instead of going back to your flat.”

“Oh.” Pansy’s eyes darted to the bed.

“Only if you want to.” He added quickly. She nodded.

“I’ll think about it.”

***************************************

When Pansy got home that night, she sent an owl to Hermione asking if she had time for lunch the next day at their favorite place in Muggle London. Hermione replied that she did and would meet her there. Pansy was already seated in a booth looking over the menu when her friend arrived and slid onto the upholstered bench on the opposite side of the table.

“Hi, Pansy.” Hermione greeted her friend with a smile.

“Hi, how are you? Did you figure out that ovulation predictor test?”

Hermione face fell. “Yes. But I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“Why do you say that?” Pansy asked.

“Because either I don’t ovulate or I can’t get pregnant. It’s been almost six months Pans, that we haven’t use a contraceptive spell and I get my period every month like clockwork!” Angry tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away.

“Oh, Hermione!” The other witch reached across and gave her hand a squeeze. “Maybe you should go see a healer.”

“I have an appointment the week after Ron’s wedding.” She sniffed, and dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. “Sorry. Draco says I’m wound up for nothing. But you know me, I hate to fail.”

Pansy smiled. Before she could reply, a waitress appeared to take their orders. Hermione hadn’t given the menu a glance and ordered her usual salad; Pansy the lunch special. Both requested cold tea. After she’d gone, Pansy leaned forward and said, “Speaking of sex --”

“You and Harry didn’t!” Hermione interrupted, eyes wide, her own predicament forgotten for the moment.

“No,” she shook her head. “But I told him I’ve never.”

“And?”

“And he was so sweet. And so understanding. It wasn’t a big deal to him at all.”

“Of course not. It’s not like he’s been around,” Hermione said.

“That’s what he said. But so, he asked me if I wanted to stay with him after the wedding, because all the kids are spending the night with Molly and Arthur,” Pansy told her. “He offered me to stay the other night too. Just to sleep. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I know this is really personal, but did you and Draco? Before you were married?”

“Yes.” Hermione pursed her lips. “On the first date.”

“What?”

“I know, I know. Looking back, it was a bad idea. We just got carried away.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Pansy told her and felt her face get warm thinking about what they’d done on the couch. “If I stay there to just sleep. But --” she paused as the waitress returned and placed their food and drinks on the table.

Hermione stabbed a bite of her grilled chicken salad and raised her eyebrows, encouraging Pansy to continue. “But….”

“But the thought of falling asleep in his arms is just so…...so……” she searched for a word, picking at the food on her plate.

“Appealing? Romantic?” Hermione supplied.

Pansy sighed. “Exactly. Oh, Hermione, I almost said I love you to him the other night! We were saying goodbye and it just almost came out without even thinking. I stopped myself and I don’t think he noticed.”

Hermione chewed thoughtfully for a moment then asked, “Do you?”

She and Pansy had become close in the last few years. Both were only children and no longer had parents around even though Hermione’s weren’t dead, just in Australia; living the lives they created after she obliviated them during the war to keep them safe. But Harry. Harry was her best friend and brother. Not only had they gone through Hogwarts together and hunted horcruxes together, she was the first one to hold James when he was born since Harry was away on an Auror mission when Ginny went into labor early. And it was Hermione who held Harry in her arms when, after staying composed for days, he fell apart following Ginny’s funeral, sobbing like a small child. When Draco suggested trying to pair Harry with Pansy she went along with the suggestion to humor her husband, never thinking the widower would have any interest in dating, let alone being in a serious relationship. But based on things she’d heard from Harry himself and now Pansy, it sounded like it had become serious indeed. The other witch stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth, then lowered it to her plate. She took a moment to reflect on everything since that dinner party at Hermione and Draco’s flat all those months ago. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth then met her friend’s intense brown gaze and nodded.

“Yes. Yes, I think I do. Merlin, I can hardly stand it when we’re apart. I think about him all the time. When we are together, I don’t want to leave and go back to my flat alone. When he touches me, it’s like, well, magic.” Pansy smiled, her indigo eyes shining at the thought.

Hermione smiled back, knowing exactly what she meant. “Sounds like love to me, Pans. So do you think you’ll stay the night?”

”Maybe.” Pansy took a bite of her salmon.

******************

That weekend, she returned to Harry’s with his tuxedo altered to a perfect fit and managed to successfully trim both his and James’ hair. Then she had James try on his own outfit that she’d designed for the wedding. It was white short pants and shirt, with braces and a small bow tie in the same colors as the bridesmaids’ and the sashes on the flower girls’ dresses.

Wednesday they had dinner as usual, but after James was tucked in — by Pansy again — Harry departed for Ron’s stag party. Admonishing him with a laugh to not have too much fun, she sent him off with a kiss and settled on the couch with her sketch book to work on some new designs. Several hours later, she found her eyes getting heavy. Pulling the blanket from the back of the couch over her, she allowed them to close. The next thing she knew, the floo had come to life and Harry stepped, or rather stumbled, out. Sitting up, she pushed the blanket aside and stood up.

“H’lo, love,” Harry said, eyes glassy from a few too many firewhisky’s.

“Looks like you boys had fun,” Pansy replied. “Let’s get you a sober-up potion and into bed.”

She took his arm and started to lead him toward the stairs, feeling like she was back at Hogwarts in her upper years when the boys would get drunk on smuggled in firewhisky and she and the other girls would help them to their rooms.

“Oh, Pansy, I’m not so very drunk,” he said, pulling his arm from her grasp and slinging it around her shoulders. She repressed a giggle, because the line was nearly identical to one from a Muggle book Hermione had loaned her once, called Gone With the Wind. She put her arm around his waist and they successfully made it up the stairs and down the hall to his room.

“Sit down, Harry.” She pushed him gently onto the bed, where he immediately flopped back onto the quilt, his legs hanging off. “Or lie down. That works too.”

“Ya know, none of tho’ wishes — witches — at the party were as beautiful as you, Pans,” he said as she untied and pulled off his shoes.

“Is that so?” She smiled. “Scoot back a bit, so you can put your head on the pillow. Do you want to take your pants off?”

“Do you wanna take ‘em off?” Harry chuckled, trying to waggle his eyebrows at her and failing.

“I’m going to get you a sober-up potion and some water. Either take your clothes off or not,” she replied, her face getting warm at his question.

When Pansy returned with the vial and a glass of water, he was sprawled on his stomach, face turned sideways on the pillow, eyes closed. He had managed to remove his shirt but his pants were stuck around his ankles. Shaking her head, she pulled them the rest of the way off his feet, trying to avoid looking at his bare back and toned bum encased in blue boxer briefs. Flipping the other side of the quilt over him, she gently removed his glasses, that were askew on his face and pressed a kiss to his cheek. As she did, he stirred.

“Pans?”

“I’m here, Harry. The sober-up is on your nightstand. You should drink it. Are you okay for me to go or should I stay in case James wakes?”

“I want you to stay, but you can go.” He was starting to sound more sober. Just sleepy now.

“Another night,” she said quietly. “Owl me tomorrow.”

“Okay. G’night.”

“Good night, Harry.” Pansy turned to leave the room and heard him speak again.

“I love you, Pansy.”

She spun back around, but his deep, even breathing filled the room and she knew he was asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Harry's surprise half drunken confession and the wedding rehearsal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, but the wedding chapter is complete and will follow shortly.

Harry awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming into the room. The curtains hadn’t been pulled the night before. He listened to see if James was awake yet and heard nothing. Reaching for his glasses, he slipped them on and rolled to sitting, pushing the quilt aside. He noticed the sober-up vial was empty, as was the glass next to it on his nightstand. Clearly he’d drank both in the middle of the night, but didn’t recall doing it. He remembered the stag party and multiple shots of firewhisky as he and Ron’s brothers, as well as their friends celebrated his best friend’s impending nuptials. He remembered flooing home and had a vague recollection of Pansy helping him up here and bringing him the potion and asking if he needed her to stay, then….

“Bloody hell! Did I tell her I loved her?” he said aloud, getting nothing but an owlish blink from Fiona where she sat on her perch near the partially open window. Getting to his feet, feeling grateful he had no hangover, he went to shower before his son woke up. As he stood under the water he dug back into his memory and decided he had, in fact, said I love you to Pansy. _Do you really love her or was that just the firewhisky talking?_ Asked a little voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Hermione.

When he returned to his room, Pansy’s owl was sitting on the perch with Fiona. The parchment tied to her leg read:

 

**_Good morning, Harry!_ **

**_I hope you’re not feeling any worse for wear today. I left my sketch book there last night. If you have time, could you bring it by the shop today? I have an appointment today and need some of what’s inside. Thank you._ **

**_P_ **

 

Smiling, he penned a response that he would bring it before he went to work and sent the owl on its way. After dropping James off at The Burrow, Harry apparated to Diagon Alley and made his way to Pansy’s shop after stopping to pick up her favorite pastry. The front of the store was empty when he went in, so he made his way to her office but found it empty as well.

“Pansy?” he called.

“Back here,” came the reply. Leaving the sketch book on her desk he followed the sound of her voice to the largest dressing room where Lavender’s wedding gown and all the bridesmaids’ dresses hung, magically suspended in the air. Jets of steam were coming from the tip of Pansy’s wand, removing any wrinkles from the wedding dress. Shoe boxes were stacked against a wall. Harry stood and watched her for a moment from the doorway. Today she was dressed in a flower print skirt, a short sleeved blouse and a pair of high heeled sandals. Her toes were painted a bright pink color and her long hair was braided into an elaborate weave. The steam had curled pieces of hair that escaped the braid alongside her face and at the nape of her neck. She caught sight of him in one of the mirrors and turned off the steam. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Harry replied, smiling. He crossed the room and kissed her, then held out the bakery box. “Your favorite. As a thank you.”

“For what?”

“Putting me to bed last night and not being angry.”

“No worries,” she laughed. “You were nothing compared to the Slytherin boys at school. But you did say you -- you asked me if I wanted to take off your pants.”

Pansy toyed with the string on the bakery box unable to meet his eyes. She didn’t want to tell him what he’d said if he didn’t remember; because she didn’t know if he’d meant it or if it was just a result of how much he’d had to drink. She’d lain awake in bed long after she got home the night before, thinking about it. The change in her statement didn’t go unnoticed by Harry this time. But right then wasn’t the time or place to have that conversation. This weekend, he decided, if she took him up on his offer to spend the night after the wedding. The grandfather clock in the store chimed, reminding Harry he needed to be getting on to work.

“I need to go. A lot to do today, with having to be at the rehearsal most of tomorrow,” he said. “Speaking of, are you coming?”

“I have to deliver the dresses but I wasn’t invited to stay,” she told him.

“I’m inviting you. Molly and Arthur won’t care.” Harry assured her. “How are you getting all those dresses there yourself and unwrinkled?”

“Stasis charm to keep them from wrinkling, then I shrink them to transport. Same with the shoes.”

“I’ll come help you. Then you can stay and help me with James. Now I really need to go.” He took the bakery box she still held and set it at their feet. “But first a proper kiss.” He put his hands to her waist, pulled her close and demonstrated, much to Pansy’s delight. She sighed audibly when the kiss ended, making him grin and press another quick peck on her mouth. “Good bye, love.”

“‘Bye.”

 

The next afternoon Harry returned to the shop as promised to help Pansy transport the dresses and shoes. She already had them in the stasis charm and shrunken to fit into boxes. They each took a stack and apparated to The Burrow. Ron and Lavender’s wedding, like all the Weasley children’s weddings before, would be held at The Burrow. One large open tent had been erected for the ceremony and reception. It was flanked by smaller ones for the bridal party. Lavender’s wedding dress was put into the one where she would be dressing and the others into another for the bridesmaids. Pansy set about reversing the spells while Harry went in search of James who was playing with his cousins Victoire and Freddie. Teddy Lupin was there as well, along with some Lavender’s sisters’ children.

After lunch the wedding planner gathered the families and members of the bridal party into the large tent. She came highly recommended and so far had lived up to her reputation. A former Ravenclaw, Darinda Macdougal was an American-born witch who had moved to the UK as a child when her father took a job with the Ministry. She had a kind and beautiful face but a no nonsense attitude. Magically amplifying her voice, she herded Ron, Harry and the groomsmen to the area at the front of the tent where the the ceremony would take place. Then she called the bridesmaids and children to the back between the rows of chairs.

“Bridesmaids will process first, then flower girl and ring bearer, ahead of the bride,” she said. She looked at Fleur who was holding Victoire’s hand, and Pansy who had James in her arms, his head on her shoulder nearly asleep since it was past naptime. “The little ones will be directed to come to you when they get to the end of the aisle. You’ll be sitting at the end of the rows so they can find you.”

She sent the bridesmaids down the aisle and then called Victoire went to stand in front of Lavender and her father while Fleur and Pansy took their assigned seats, James now completely asleep.

“ _Maman_! I cannot do this! I don’t have my basket!” cried the little girl.

Always prepared, the wedding planner pulled a miniature basket from inside her robes, enlarged it and handed it to the child who peered inside, delighted to see it was filled with flower petals, and made her way down the aisle, happily dropping handsful of them, the basket spelled to stay perpetually filled. Harry had tuned out most of the goings on once he was in his place beside Ron, his eyes on Pansy as she had picked up James who was becoming cranky; then watched as she gently swayed back and forth, rubbing his back until he fell asleep. It warmed his heart to see the two of them together and how lovingly she cared for them. _There’s that L-word again,_ said the Hermione-sounding voice in his head. _You need to get your feelings for her sorted._ Pansy found Harry looking at her as she sat with the sleeping James leaning against her chest while Lavender made her way down the aisle. He smiled a little sheepishly at being caught when she met his gaze, but his heart gave a little leap when she smiled back.

After the dinner that evening, Harry left his son in the capable hands of his grandmother and walked Pansy to an apparition point to say goodnight. He wanted to do so away from the eyes of his Weasley inlaws who were quite curious about the state of their relationship after seeing her care for James. Hermione, too, didn’t miss the way Harry watched Pansy during the rehearsal and had caught her husband’s eye as she stood at the front of the tent with the other bridesmaids and subtly nodded at the pair. Harry took her hand as the walked away from the house and the wedding tents. It was the first they’d touched all day and frisson of pleasure rippled through her. The June night air was warm around them. The forecast for the next day looked promising as well.

“Thanks for coming and helping with James today,” he said. “Let’s hope he cooperates tomorrow, since he didn’t get a trial run.”

“It’s never a bother, Harry.” She squeezed his hand. “I think he’ll do fine. He’ll be with Victoire and I’ll be right there on the aisle to coax him if need be or snag him if he starts to go too far.”

They had reached the point from where Pansy would apparate home.

“I probably won’t see you until the ceremony. I need to keep Ron under control,” Harry said. “He’s pretty nervous.”

Pansy turned and wrapped her arms around his waist. She looked up at him. “Good, then my dress will be a surprise.”

“I’m sure you’ll be stunning. You always are.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Is it a Parkinson original design?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said stretching on tiptoes to press her lips to his. “I can’t wait to see you in your tux as well. You’d better get back. Molly is probably done with James’ bath by now.”

“In a minute,” Harry replied and returned his lips to hers for a longer kiss, his arms pulling her closer and lifting her up a little. When he was finished and Pansy’s feet were firmly back on the ground although her head felt like it was in the clouds, he said, “Good night, love.”

She replied, “‘Night, Harry.” Taking a moment to compose herself, lest she get splinched, Pansy stepped out of his arms and took one last look at him, before turning on the spot and apparating back to her apartment.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day Ron and Lavender have been waiting for. But it wouldn't be a Weasley wedding without some drama. Two year olds are quite unpredictable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See I told you the next chapter wasn't far behind! If you all are good and real life allows, you might get a third one too!

Harry and James stayed over the night before the wedding, sleeping in Ginny’s old room. In true Weasley fashion, it hadn’t changed much; with her old Quidditch posters still on the walls. Harry transfigured the single bed into a larger one with a railing on one side so the toddler wouldn’t roll out, but discovered there was no concern for that since the boy spent the night snuggled against him; tired out from playing with his cousins. He woke in the morning to the familiar sounds of the old house: pipes rattling and groaning as water was drawn through them and shouts of people needing to get into bathrooms. Harry remembered the morning of his own wedding when Ginny snuck into the room he shared with Ron when her brother was in the bathroom with the door suddenly and mysteriously swelled to stick in its frame. She crawled into bed with him and they shared sweet kisses until they heard Arthur free Ron from from his steamy prison and she slipped back into the hallway under cover of his invisibility cloak. He smiled, wondering what it would be like to snuggle with Pansy under the warmth of a quilt. He wanted to ask her if she had made a decision about his offer to spend the night with him after the wedding. They didn’t need to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with; he would be happy to just fall asleep with her in his arms. But that conversation would have to wait.

Once he and James were dressed, Harry reported to the tent designated for the groom and groomsmen after putting his son in the capable hands of his  _ Tante _ Fleur and Auntie Hermione in the other tent where the women were preparing. The wedding planner moved back and forth between the two, both of which had magical countdowns floating in the air to the time when the wedding would begin, issuing orders and reminders, straightening ties with a flick of her wand and casting a concerned eye at Ron who was so pale, his freckles seemed almost three dimensional.

“Mr. Weasley, do sit down before you fall down.” She waved her hand and a chair slid up behind him. It tapped the backs of his legs and he collapsed into it. “Head between your knees if you feel faint.”

Harry put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder and told her, “I’ve got him. He’ll be alright.

“Very good, Mr. Potter. When the clock reaches zero you need to take him out and get in position.” With a swish of her robes, she left the tent.

Harry crouched down in front of Ron, who was holding his head in his hands.

“Harry, I feel like I’m going to start puking slugs,” he moaned.

“Well, since Malfoy’s nowhere in sight, I don’t think that’s going to happen. Besides, Hermione wouldn’t let him do that,” the green eyed wizard assured the red haired groom. “Do I need to get her to come get you sorted?”

Ron lifted his head. “Merlin no! She’d probably start spouting statistics about how many men feel this way before they get married or have some crazy suggestions for relaxation from those Muggle yoga classes she takes.”

“Then how about this, baby brother?” George held out a tray filled with enough shot glasses full of firewhisky for each man.

“Thanks, George. That was my next suggestion,” said Harry gratefully, standing up and taking two glasses; offering one to Ron.

“I can’t! Lavender would kill me!” He shrank away from the glass as if it was one of Aragog’s eight legged offspring.

“Ron, it’s one drink. You’re not going to get pissed. It will calm your nerves,” Charlie told him. 

“We won’t tell Lavender,” promised Bill.

“Drink it,” urged Percy, which surprised all of them, including Ron. “What? He looks like shite. It will help.”

Ron stood on shaky legs and took the glass from Harry. “Okay.”

The men’s raised their glasses.

“To Ron!” said Percy,

“To marriage!” said Bill.

“To happiness!” said Charlie.

“To the wedding night!” said George.

“To...love,” said Harry, a thoughtful look on his face.

The men downed their shots and almost immediately the color began to return to Ron’s face. Fred collected the glasses and disposed of the evidence as the magical countdown hit zero. Harry clapped his best friend on the back.

“Time to get you married, mate!”

Ron’s eyes widened briefly, but his color remained and he dutifully followed Harry and his brothers from the small tent into the large one, taking his place under the canopy of flowers to the left of the officiant, Harry to his left and the rest of the men in a line beside. Where before he was pale and listless, now he fidgeted; buttoning and unbuttoning his jacket until Harry muttered, “Ron, stop. Take a breath.” He demonstrated, drawing a deep breath as he scanned the people seated in the chairs in front of them. 

Suddenly he forgot how to let it out when his eyes landed on Pansy. She was seated where she’d been instructed so James would be able to find her and looked stunning. Her dark hair was piled atop her head with tendrils curling around her face. She wore a dress that reminded him of their nighttime broom ride. The dark blue color almost matched her eyes and it was covered in crystals that sparkled like stars. The bodice, which was a halter style that fastened behind her neck, was nearly covered in them and then became gradually less on the full tulle skirt.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Ron breathed, a huge grin on his face and Harry let his breath out in a whoosh, realizing he’d missed all the bridesmaids coming down the aisle and now Lavender stood at the back of the tent with her father, James and Victoire immediately ahead of her.

_ Yes, she is. _ Harry thought, watching Pansy look at James with a smile on her face.

The wedding planner leaned over and whispered to the two children and they started walking down the aisle together, Victoire carefully dropping flower petals from her basket. Fleur was seated across the aisle from Pansy three rows from the front and as the girl spotted her mother, she shouted, “ _ Maman _ !” and hurried to her side, abandoning the petals. A wave of quiet laughter spread through the guests. James had been looking for Pansy as instructed and when he saw her, imitated his cousin with a loud exclamation of “Mama!” and ran to her side. There were some gasps from members of the Weasley clan but they were drowned out by the crescendo of music as the bride prepared to walk the aisle. The witch’s eyes widened in shock and after she picked the boy up, standing now as Lavender was approaching on her father’s arm, she turned to look at Harry who was staring at her; equally wide eyed. She bit her lip and shook her head to try and convey she had no idea where that came from.

“Me carry pillow.” James told her proudly, showing it to her.

“Yes, you did, James. You did a good job,” Pansy whispered, putting a finger over his small lips. “We need to be quiet now. Uncle Ron and Aunt Lavender are getting married.”

The guests were seated as the ceremony began and she settled him on her lap. He played with the ribbons on the pillow and she was grateful for the sticking charm that held the rings on it.  _ The rings!  _ The rings were still attached to the pillow! Pansy looked up to see if she could catch Harry’s eye and found his green gaze was already trained on her.  _ Had he realized about the rings?  _ she wondered, but she couldn’t read the look in his eyes. It didn’t seem like he was trying to communicate anything to her, but more like he was thinking about her.

Harry stood next to Ron, but his eyes were on Pansy. He was still trying to process that James had called her mama. Of course, the boy didn’t know what the word meant and was clearly imitating Victoire. But he had heard his cousins use that word and other terms when talking to their own mothers and had never repeated it to his aunts before. Harry could only think that the toddler must have made some connection between the word and the witch who was now holding him on her lap. The witch who had been bathing and feeding him, playing with and teaching him for the last few months. The one who had been tucking him into bed and soothing him when he was out of sorts. The one who had been functioning as a mother to him. Pansy looked as surprised to hear it as he was, but now as he looked at her and his son, he realized he liked thinking of her that way. It felt right. Coming out of his reverie he realized she was trying to tell him something. She discreetly held up the pillow James carried down the aisle, he saw a glint of something and realized the rings were still on it. Harry nodded to let her know he understood. 

When the officiant paused before the exchange of rings, Harry stepped over and whispered to him. Both Ron and Lavender turned and looked at James sitting on Pansy’s lap, once again holding the satin pillow. The officiant chuckled and said, 

“It seems our ring bearer is still in possession of the rings. Young man, could you bring those up here, please?”

Pansy stood the boy on his feet and whispered, “Take the pillow to Daddy.”

James walked the rest of the way down the aisle to the steps that led up to the platform where the bridal party stood. Ron reached down and swung him up the steps, placing him between himself and Harry. His father knelt down and reversed the charm holding the rings to the pillow and handed them to the officiant. Then he lifted James into his arms.

“Hi, Daddy,” the boy said in whisper but loud enough it carried back to Pansy, who smiled at the pair.

“Hello, mate. Let’s watch Uncle Ron get married, shall we?” he murmured. The boy nodded and attention turned back to the bride and groom as they exchanged rings. James liked the view from the dais and was waving to the people he could see. His Gran and Gramp, Uncle Draco,  _ Tante _ Fleur and Teddy, who waved back, much to his delight. Harry was about to issue a whispered reprimand when the boy’s attention was captured by the final part of the ceremony; the magical binding. Golden cords came from the tip of the officiant’s wand and wound themselves around Ron and Lavender’s hands. It was much like an unbreakable vow, only these were broken upon the death of a spouse. Harry remembered how it felt when Ginny died. He had known even before anyone came and told him that she was gone, because he felt her magic leave him. Before he could dwell on it, the ceremony was over, the new couple were kissing and everyone was clapping. James joined in enthusiastically.

Ron and Lavender walked down the steps and were immediately engulfed by family and friends. Harry remained in place, holding James; watching and feeling happy for his best friend whose previous nerves were long forgotten and was now beaming, his arm around his bride. The chairs that had been occupied were now magically disappearing as they were emptied to be replaced with tables and other chairs and he saw Pansy approaching through the crowd. She reached the steps and lifted her long skirt to ascend them without tripping. Harry saw her shoes said with a grin, “Glass slippers? You’re not going to run off at midnight, are you?”

She frowned and he realized she didn’t get it. “Muggle fairytale reference.”

“Nothing like a little drama to keep people's attention, then, right?” She gently ruffled James’ hair. “Good thing you look so cute.”

“Speaking of looking, you look amazing!” Harry smiled, putting his free arm around her waist. “It reminds me of the stars in the sky the other night.”

“That was the idea. You look pretty handsome yourself.” Pansy smoothed her hand over his lapel and smiled back. 

Hermione was standing with Draco and she nudged her husband, pointing out the couple. “Look at them. If you didn’t know better, you’d think they were a family.”

“I’m taking a picture of that,” he said, quickly pulling his camera from his pocket, enlarging it to its regular size, zooming in on the couple and child and snapping several photos before they noticed. “Got it.”

“Muggle or wizard photo?” Hermione asked.

“Both. At least it should be both. I’ve been working with Arthur on a camera that can take both kinds of photos,” Draco told her with a grin.

“My husband, the inventor,” she kissed his cheek.

Unaware of the eyes on them, Harry bent his head to kiss Pansy when a voice came from across the tent.

“Oi! Save that for later, you two!” Ron shouted. “Harry, you need to bring your arse over here so we can get these pictures over with.”

“Language, Ronald!” his new wife chastised him, but he just laughed and swept her into his arms for a kiss in reply.

Harry and Pansy laughed, then she said, “Do you want me to keep James? Or do you think they want him in the photos?”

“They probably want him in some. But you can keep him from running off and getting dirty if I’m required for ones without him. Maybe I’ll get the photographer to take one of you in that gorgeous dress.” He grinned and let her lead the way off the dais.

Pansy did get a formal picture taken but it wasn’t by herself or with Harry. Lavender insisted on having one taken with her as the dress designer. There were dozens of group photos taken and finally James decided he’d had enough and sat down. Hard. On the edge of Lavender’s gown. There was a terrible ripping sound. Lavender looked down to see the delicate fabric had come apart at the waist seam. She gasped then shrieked at James, “What did you do?”

It was past naptime, the toddler was tired and her tone frightened him. He burst into tears. Ron, who was closest to him, tried to coax him off the dress but he wouldn’t move, keeping Lavender unable to move as well, for fear the dress would tear more. Molly came forward and picked him up as Pansy made her way closer to take a look at the damage. When James saw her, he twisted away from his grandmother and held out his arms to her, sobbing. She quickly assessed the gown and determined it could be easily fixed with a wave of her wand, but Molly was having a hard time holding the squirming boy so she handed him over to the other witch, saying,

“I’ll take care of the repair, dear. See if you can get our boy settled.”

Pansy walked away from the crowd around the bride and went in the door of The Burrow, Harry not far behind. He had been with the group of groomsmen being photographed when the incident happened, but saw Molly hand his sobbing son over to his girlfriend. Inside the house it was quieter and the boy, now being held by the person he wanted, immediately began to calm down. She sat down in the old rocking chair in the living room and rocked him, rubbing his back and making shushing sounds.

“You’re okay, James. Aunt Lav didn’t mean to yell at you. We know you didn’t mean to tear her dress. It’s alright,” Pansy said. 

The boy had his face buried in her neck and was mumbling, “Mmamammm.” as he relaxed against her. 

Harry arrived in the room in time to hear his son all but call Pansy mama again. He stood there and looked at her, his heart gave a little leap and for the second time that day realized this was a scene he wanted to keep seeing. The raven-haired witch was good for him; for them both. She made them happy and that was something Harry had never imagined he could be again. Ginny’s death had left a gaping chasm in his heart, one that had seemed impossible to bridge. Then Pansy was introduced into his life by well-meaning friends and suddenly the chasm didn’t seem quite so big. Now, as he watched her cradle his son, he realized it had closed completely. While a part of him would always love Ginny, she was his past. Pansy was his future. His and James’. He loved her. He was sure of it.

Pansy looked up and saw him and the intense look on his face took her breath away. With a couple strides he was at her side. Taking a knee beside the chair, he put one hand on James’ back and the other behind her head and pulled her to him for a searing kiss, further stealing her breath. When he pulled back, she said, “Harry.”

“Later, love. Let’s put our little ring bearer down for a short nap. You need to go make sure Lavender’s dress is all right.” He took James from her arms and stood up. She followed him up the twisting stairs to the room he’d slept in the night before. Laying the boy down on the bed, he loosened his bow tie while Pansy removed his shoes. Both of them kissed his forehead. With a wave of his wand, another side appeared on the bed and they quietly left the room.

As they exited the house, Lavender and Ron approached them, the bride looking contrite and concerned. “Is James okay?” she asked. “I didn’t mean to frighten him. It just took me by surprise is all.”

“He’s fine,” Harry assured her. “He was just tired. He’s having a bit of a nap now and he’ll be back to his happy self when he wakes up.”

“How’s your dress?” Pansy tried to see where the tear had been, but couldn’t find it.

“Just as new.” Lavender swished her skirt, smiling. “Molly repaired it perfectly.”

“Wonderful. Congratulations, by the way,” she said to both of them. “Ron, I don’t think I’ve even seen you smile so much.” 

“Me neither,” said Hermione as she and Draco joined the group. “But love will do that.” She smiled at the man beside her.

“Thanks, Pansy.” Ron smiled again and everyone broke into laughter. “You and Harry seem pretty happy yourselves,” he said.

“Ron, we need to go talk to our guests and I’d like a glass of champagne,” said Lavender, wanting to turn the attention back to herself.

“Love, as long as you don’t let us get cornered by Auntie Muriel, I’ll ply you with champagne all day,” he replied, kissing her cheek and leading her away to the champagne fountain.

“Speaking of being happy.....I have something to show you,” said Draco pulling his camera out and enlarging it. He turned it around to display the screen and showed Harry and Pansy one of the photos he’d taken of them. The image perfectly captured the intimate moment as they had talked; Harry’s arm curled possessively around her waist, Pansy’s hand on his chest, face tipped up to look at him adoringly and James watching the two of them. For Harry it just reinforced his feelings. They looked like a family; even seen through something as neutral as a camera lens. He couldn’t wait to get her alone to tell her how he felt. Pansy was taken aback at how her feelings for Harry were written all over her face. If he hadn’t figured out she loved him before, he certainly knew now, she thought, siding a glance at his face.

“That’s a great photo, Draco,” Harry said, and the former Slytherin began to explain about the camera and how he’d been working with Arthur.

Hermione put her arm through Pansy’s and said, “Let’s go find ourselves some champagne, too, while they chat. I’ve already heard all about this.”

As they walked away, she said to her friend, “Guess there’s no denying you love him now, is there? That picture says it all. You three look like a family, Pans.”

“I know and yes I do. I need to tell him how I feel. I’ve decided to go home with him tonight,” Pansy confided.

“Are you going to…..?” The curly haired witch arched an eyebrow. “Do you know the spell? Or I can give you some Muggle protection.”

“I don’t know,” the other whispered. “I know the spell, but what do Muggles use?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well what did you think? Told you there was some drama. Since I haven't been able to master putting photos or links in here, I'll post the dress that inspired Pansy's on tumblr. I just changed the bodice.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Pansy finally confess their feelings for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the longest chapters I've ever written, but it needed to stay as one. I wrote and rewrote and wrote again until I got this exactly the way I wanted it. Parts of it gives me goosebumps every time, even though I wrote it. I hope it doesn't disappoint! Many thanks to theoofoof for her beta skills and helping me get just the right words.

A little while later, Harry went to check on James and found the boy awakening from his nap; now in a much better mood, but hungry. Harry got him redressed in his smart little suit and they went outside where the meal was about to begin. There was no head table, so he was able to sit with Pansy and James at the same table with Hermione and Draco and Blaise and Luna, whose belly was large with child. Not surprisingly her choice of dress was unique and this one was pale blue and covered with three dimensional flowers. Pansy saw Hermione glance at Luna enviously and then watched as Draco put his arm around her and whispered something in her ear, making her smile and lean her head onto his shoulder. She made a mental reminder to ask Hermione when her appointment was with the healer in the coming week.

Halfway through the meal, the musicians began to set up on the dais where the ceremony had taken place. They were a wizard band but Hermione said Lavender told her they played muggle music as well. Pansy was occupied cleaning James’ hands when Harry leaned around behind the child and said quietly, “I can’t wait to dance with you.” His deep timbre sent a shiver down her spine at the thought of being in his arms. But before the dancing began, Lavender followed another Muggle custom and had a cake cutting. The cake had five round tiers with a cascade of purple flowers. Harry allowed James a small piece of the sweet and quickly his face was smeared with frosting. Finally the music started and Molly Weasley approached the table.

“Harry, this part of the wedding is for you young people. Let me take James inside for a bath and get him ready for bed. He’s staying here with the other grandkids tonight, right?”

“Yes, he is Molly. Thank you,” Harry said, lifting James from the chair where he was sitting to eat his cake. “Good night, James. Be good for Gram and Gramp,” Harry told his son, handing him off to his grandmother.

“Good night, James,” Pansy kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Molly.”

“You’re welcome. Now you two go enjoy yourselves,” she said, and Pansy could have sworn the older witch winked at her before turning and starting toward the house with the child.

Hermione, Draco, Blaise and Luna had already joined the bride and groom and other couples on the dance floor that grew larger as the dining tables magically disappeared. Harry took Pansy’s hand. “You heard Molly,” he said, leading her onto the dance floor and taking her fully into his arms for the first time that day. She put one hand on his shoulder while the other was held in his; his other at the small of her back. She sighed happily. She didn’t care that they were dancing or that the song was more up-tempo than she’d prefer, Pansy was just enjoying the feel of his arms.

“I’m apologizing now if I step on your toes. I missed all those Yule Ball dance lessons. Too busy with the Tri Wizard Tournament tasks,” he told her with a grin.

“You can’t be worse than Draco was,” she replied. “Although his skills seem to have improved since then.” They both looked over where her Yule Ball date was dancing with his wife and showing some proficiency.

The song slowed then to something a little more sultry and the fairy lights around the tent dimmed. Pansy’s hand moved to the back of Harry’s neck and she combed her nails through the hair above his collar. He drew her other hand to his chest, covering it with his own, while the one at her back slid up to the bare skin exposed by the halter style of her dress. His touch was electric and she melted against him, looking up into his green eyes. She took a breath and licked her lips. She wanted to tell him how she felt about him; that she wanted to go home with him that night; that she had nearly decided she wanted him to make love to her, but they were in the middle of a dance floor at his best friend’s wedding. The atmosphere was romantic, but she wanted to be alone with him, where there was no chance of someone overhearing their words.

“Harry,” she said quietly, as they moved to the music, “I want to tell you something.”

“Me too,” he told her. The lyrics to the song that was playing couldn’t have been more appropriate, he thought. _I want you to be my last first kiss,_ sang the wizard on the stage.

“Not here. It’s nothing bad,” she hastened to add when he frowned slightly, and caressed the back of his neck. “I would just rather do it somewhere else. Like at your place.”

Harry smiled and tightened his hold on her waist. If he thought it wouldn't create a huge scene, he'd apparate them from right there on the dance floor.

“Sounds like a good idea. No one will notice if we leave. It’s Ron and Lavender’s night.” He indicated the newlyweds who were kissing on the dance floor across the tent.

“I need to get my evening bag. It’s in the bridesmaids’ tent with Hermione’s. Meet you outside in a few minutes?” Pansy said. Before he released her, Harry lowered his head to press his lips to hers, gently and lightly; a promise for later.

Their interaction wasn’t missed by their friends who had been dancing nearby. When the couple parted after the brief kiss, Hermione said to her husband, “Looks like Pansy made up her mind about tonight.”

“About what?”

“She’s going home with Harry. So she can tell him she loves him. And maybe -- Draco where are you going?” she said as he removed his arms from her and walked briskly after Harry, who was leaving the tent.

He caught up with him a moment later. “Potter!”

Harry spun around, not having heard Draco address him like that in almost a decade, half expecting to see his wand out. It wasn’t of course, but the blonde wizard had a look on his face the Auror couldn’t read.

“Bloody hell, Draco, you startled me. Is something wrong?”

“Hermione said you’re leaving with Pansy.”

“Yes. We’re going back to my place.”

“Do you love her, Harry?”

“I do. But what’s it to you?”

“I’ve known Parkinson since we were in nappies. She’s one of my best friends. She was raised to expect an arranged marriage and she’s --”

“She’s a virgin, I know,” Harry interrupted. “Listen, Draco. I appreciate you care about Pansy and don’t want her to get hurt. But I’m not going to do that. And I’m not going to force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. But watching her today with James -- I think I’d marry her tomorrow if she’d let me.”

As he spoke, he saw the former Slytherin’s face relax. He remembered feeling protective about Hermione when her relationship with Draco became known and how he and Ron had cornered him one day. Yes, it was time to declare his feelings for Pansy. To her and everyone else who wanted to know.

“I’m sorry, Harry. Didn’t mean to --” The other wizard held up his hand.

“No need to apologize. Don’t you remember what Ron and I said you about Hermione? I think turnabout is fair play.”

“Harry, I’m ready; I’ve got my bag. Draco, what are you doing out here?” Pansy said as she approached the men, holding a crystal encrusted clutch that Harry would bet had been enchanted with Hermione’s famous undetectable extension charm.

“Draco and I were just talking while I waited for you, love,” Harry said, giving the other man a brief nod, which was returned. They understood each other.

“Good night, Parkinson. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Draco smirked at her and pecked her on the cheek before turning and walking back to the wedding tent.

“Ready then?” She nodded, put her arms around Harry and he took the two of them to outside the front door of his house. Keeping an arm about her, he wandlessly unlocked the door and led her inside. There were a couple dim bulbs burning in the main room to keep it from being completely dark. They stood there for a moment arms still around each other, taking in the fact that they were finally alone after the chaos and crowds that had dominated the day. Reluctantly, Harry released her and moved to turn on an additional lamp.

“No, don’t,” she said. “This is enough.”

Pansy sat down on the couch where she’d sat dozens of times before in the last few months, her skirt billowing out around her. Suddenly she was feeling uncertain about voicing her feelings to the wizard standing before her, breathtakingly handsome in his tuxedo even after all day. Was she good enough to be loved by him? Harry reached up and undid his bowtie, pulling it off. Then he shrugged out of his jacket, and dropped it on a nearby chair. She watched him fumble with the cufflinks and held out her hand,

“Come here, let me help.”

He sat down beside her on the couch and she deftly removed them, dropping them onto the coffee table. The action was simple yet intimate and in a flash, Pansy realized this was what she wanted. She wanted the simple things with Harry. She wanted to help him with his cufflinks after fancy dress events. She wanted to fix his tea in the morning. She wanted to trim his and James’ hair. She just hoped he wanted it too. Before she could think on it further she blurted,

“Harry, I love you. I heard you say it to me the other night and I want you know I feel the same way.”

He hadn’t been looking at her, about to lean back against the cushions and thinking he wanted to take off his shoes. At her words he snapped his eyes to hers, seeing love and a bit of uncertainty in them. Leaning closer, he cupped her face in his hands and said, “I love you, too. I know I said it the other night but I want you to hear it again when I’m clear headed and wide awake. I saw you with James today and realized you’ve helped me love again. I wasn’t sure if I would ever, could ever again after Ginny died. But I have and I do. I love you, Pansy Parkinson.”

He captured her mouth with his in a kiss reminiscent of their first ones in her flat. Harry explored her lips slowly, lovingly and she returned it, imitating his movements and strokes of his tongue with her own until they were both breathless. Harry hands caressed the bare skin of her back, making her shiver, and pull him closer. He smelled and tasted of all the things that intoxicated her senses more and faster than any liquor could.

Pansy wanted to feel his skin under her hands and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, pulling it from the waist of his trousers. When it was open and his chest bare to her, she ran her hands down his chest and around his sides to his back. Harry nipped at her lower lip before kissing her jaw and down her neck. She tilted her head back to allow him better access, gasping when his teeth grazed the sensitive skin under her ear.

His fingers went to the back of her neck, where the top of her dress fastened. “Pansy,” he said, pressing another kiss to her lips. “Can I undo this? I want to see you.”

She nodded, leaning forward to press her own lips to one of his collar bones. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Harry unhooked her dress and allowed the sparkling bodice to fall to her waist, the crystals blinking in the low light. She wore no bra under the dress and her breasts were the same creamy color as her chest and arms, except for the dark pink nipples which had hardened with exposure to the cool air in the room and her building desire.

He ran his hands down her shoulders and arms to her hands and raised them to place her palms on his chest. Then he placed his hands on her waist and slowly caressed his way up her sides until he reached the undersides of her breasts. She was breathing quickly, her hands where he’d placed them, eyes fixed on his face. When he moved to cup her breasts, she closed her eyes and gave a breathy shudder as his thumbs grazed the hard peaks.

“Pansy look at me,” he removed his hands to cup her face again. She opened her eyes to gaze into his green ones. “I want to touch you more, but not here. Let me take you upstairs.”

She nodded and allowed him to help her stand. She stretched up to kiss him, her breasts pressing against his bare chest, making him groan against her lips. Summoning up some courage, Pansy reached behind her and unzipped the skirt of her gown, letting it fall to the floor in a puddle of sparkling tulle. She wore lace and satin panties the same color as her dress and French silk stockings with her clear high heeled pumps.

“Merlin, you’re beautiful,” he told her, before scooping her up in his arms the way he had that night after their broomstick ride and heading for the staircase.

Pansy put her arms around his shoulders and closed her eyes again, revelling at the feel of his strong arms and bare chest against her skin. Harry’s long legs took the steps two at a time until they reached the top and continued down the hall to his room. No lights were on, but there was enough moonlight coming through the window for him to see his way to the bed, where he put her down. She drew her knees up to her chest to cover herself. Pulling his wand from his trousers, he lit a couple candles he’d thought to place around the room the day before, with just in case in mind. In the flickering light he could see Pansy was trembling. From cold or apprehension, he wasn’t sure. Shrugging off his shirt, he placed it around her shoulders. It was warm from his skin and smelled like him. She pulled it around her and some of her nervousness abated. Toeing off first his own shoes and removing his socks, he then leaned over and pulled off her shoes. Holding them up he said, “You know, Cinderella is one of my favorite fairytales. I think James has the book somewhere.”

Pansy knew he was trying to put her at more at ease and it worked.

“Harry, as much as I want to know what you’re talking about, can we put that Muggle lesson off until later?” She held out her hand. “Come here.”

He dropped the shoes to the floor and sat beside her on the bed. She leaned in to kiss him, threading a hand through his hair. Then she stopped and for a moment Harry thought she had changed her mind. Instead, she took both hands and reached for his glasses. Removing them gently from his face, she placed them on the nightstand next to the book she had seen there before. Then she turned back and took his face in her hands.

“I’ve never seen you without your glasses, before,” she told him. “You have --”

“-- my mother’s eyes,” Harry finished automatically. She giggled.

“No, I was going to say you have beautiful eyes.”

“So do you,” he replied.

“Well now that we have that sorted,” she smiled and leaned back in where she was a moment before and lightly kissed him at one side of his mouth and then the other side. She kissed his top lip and bottom lip, nipping at it gently with her teeth before sucking it into her mouth and soothing the bite with her tongue.

Then she kissed her way down his jaw to his neck, as he had done to her. When she felt his pulse beneath her lips, she suckled at the point until she knew she had left a mark. He pushed her back onto the mattress, settling his torso over her, but not his hips. Harry didn’t want her to feel how much he wanted her. He wanted her to set the pace. He needn’t have worried too much. As his lips plundered hers, she arched into his touch, gasping as he again caressed her breasts. Pansy clutched at his shoulders and squirmed, raising her hips, trying to find something to press against the ache that had developed between her legs.

She reached for one of Harry’s hand and placed it at her hip. His fingers felt the lace of her panties and traced the edge of the elastic, as his lips moved back to the soft skin of her neck and shoulders. Pansy again lifted her hips, against his hand this time, and it slipped around the curve of her buttocks, caressing and kneading. Pushing up on his other elbow, he adjusted so he was on his side. The shift in position created friction in his trousers and he couldn’t hold back a groan nor stop himself from pushing his hips against the side of hers. She rolled so they were now chest to chest, hips to hips, and hooked a leg around his, pulling him closer so that he pressed against the ache, giving little relief. If anything, it made it worse.

Harry pulled back a little and looked at her, hair down around her shoulders -- she must have vanished the hairpins herself, because he hadn’t felt any the last time his fingers combed her silky strands -- face flushed, eyes heavy with desire. She was so beautiful and looked at him with such love and trust. He wanted her. But he wanted her to make that decision. She had waited this long, had been raised to lose her virginity on her wedding night. He wasn’t going to take that from her without knowing one hundred percent it was what she wanted.

“Pansy.....love…”

She knew what he was trying to say and knew what he needed her to tell him. Pansy had been raised to expect an arranged marriage with a wizard who might be significantly older than herself or a near stranger. A match that would benefit both wizarding families and create pureblood magical children. She had listened to her mother explain that intimacy between a witch and wizard wasn’t just a joining of their physical selves but of their magic as well and wasn’t something to be undertaken lightly. After her mother died in the war, Pansy promised herself that although the tradition of arranged marriages had likely died with Voldemort, she would still save herself for the man she married. In her heart she knew Harry was that man. She loved him, she trusted him and she knew he loved and respected her. Pansy gazed into his green eyes that reflected the love she felt for him.

“Harry, I want you to make love to me.”

Even though it was what he wanted her to say, the pure emotion with which she spoke brought a lump to his throat. He lowered his head to kiss her, but stopped, their lips almost touching.

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely sure.” She was the one to close the gap, kissing him tenderly, while reaching for the button on his trousers, brushing his hardness, making him draw a sharp breath.

“Let me do that,” he murmured, and rolled away to stand up and shed his trousers and boxers beneath.

Pansy knew what the male body looked like from art classes, but seeing it up close, in the form of the man she loved with all her heart stole her breath for a moment. And he said she was beautiful, she thought, as she lifted her hips and shimmied off her own panties, then rolled her stockings down her legs and off. She wanted all of her skin to be able to touch his. Wanted no barrier.

“Wait,” she said as a practical thought invaded her mind for a moment. Sex out of wedlock was one thing, but she didn’t need to get pregnant the first time round.

Harry sat back down on the bed beside her. “It’s okay, Pans, if you want to change your mind.”

“Merlin no!” she said, then giggled at how vehement that sounded. Harry chuckled as well. “No, I was just thinking about -- well, I know the spell, but Hermione gave me something Muggles use.”

She summoned her bag from downstairs, and reached inside, feeling around. When Harry saw her arm go in to the elbow he knew he had been right about the extension charm. After a moment she pulled her hand out, clutching a small box.

“Hermione said they’re called --”

“Condoms, yes I know what they are. Why does -- nevermind. So you want to use this instead of a spell?” He put her bag aside and caressed her face. “Why?”

She opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words to explain what she’d been thinking since Hermione explained what the condoms were and how they worked. Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against his and Harry understood. Whispering the _Legilimens_ spell, he looked inside Pansy’s mind for the explanation she couldn’t voice. His heart overflowed with love when he realized she wanted to be his wife and while she wanted to make love for the first time with him tonight, if they used a condom it would still maintain a small barrier between them. They would reserve the most intimate contact for their wedding night. That way they still had something new, something special to experience together when they were married.

“I love you, Pansy,” he said, leaving her mind. “I love you so much.”

Harry took the box from her, opened one of the foil pouches inside and let her help him roll it on. Then he took her in his arms and lowered her to the mattress. He kissed and caressed her until she was writhing beneath him, panting and lifting her hips into his. Settling himself between her legs, he supported his weight on his arms.

“Look at me, love,” he whispered.

Pansy met his eyes and held his gaze as he joined their bodies for the first time. At her age and having ridden a broomstick astride for so many years, there was no barrier to break through. She was more than ready to receive him but Harry moved slowly, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. Her eyes widened for a moment as she experienced the first sensation of being filled and stretched, then closed with pleasure as he withdrew and repeated the movement. And then again. A few times more and she began to match his movements, lifting her hips into his as they established a loving rhythm. The room was filled with the sounds of their breathing, of whispered words of love and pleasure as Pansy finally reached the peak of pleasure, hung there for a moment and fell over the edge, gasping his name; taking Harry with her seconds later.

He held her close as they came down from the orgasmic high, their breathing becoming calmer. Finally he pulled away and quickly cleaned himself up. When he turned back to the bed, Pansy had pulled the quilt down so he could join her on the sheet. Climbing into the bed, he covered them and gathered her back into his arms. She put her head on her chest and listened to the beating of his heart. He kissed the top of her head.

“All right then, love?”

She picked up her head and scooted up to look him in the eye. “More than all right.” Then she yawned. “I think I could sleep.”

“Me too.” He gave her a nudge. “Roll over.” When she did, he pulled her petite frame snugly against his chest, an arm around her waist. Pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, Harry said, “Good night.”

“‘Night, Harry. I love you.”

“Love you too, Pans.” He felt her relax against him as she drifted off. It had been a long day, filled with a lot of complex emotions. Harry kissed her shoulder one last time before going to sleep himself.

 

Harry woke first the next morning. He and Pansy had switched places in the middle of the night and she was now spooned behind him, her chest pressed to his back and her small hand on his hip. He could feel her warm breath against his shoulder. Reaching for her hand, he pulled her arm around him and held her palm to his chest. He smiled, remembering the night before; glad it had been real and not just a dream. Now he felt her stir and move behind him.

“Whatimeisit?” Pansy mumbled against his back.

“Early, judging by the sun and the sound of the birds. Can’t see the clock without my glasses.” He felt her chuckle. She lifted her head to peer over his shoulder.

“It’s nearly eight,” she said, putting her head back down on the pillow and stretching her legs, before sliding one between his.

She had taken a silent inventory of her body and decided she felt good. Not even a little sore, as she’d anticipated. Pansy smiled and pressed her lips to his back, causing him to roll over quickly and pin her beneath him. She laughed at the sudden movement that took her by surprise. When he bent his head to kiss her mouth she turned head.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“You’re a witch. Cast a cleansing spell. I want to kiss you.” She could smell mint and knew he’d already done so before rolling over. Feeling self conscious she did as he requested and then turned her head back to face him. Before she could get a word out, he’d captured her lips in a slow, leisurely kiss. Combing her fingers through his hair, unruly from sleep, she hummed with pleasure. When it ended, she said,

“I like waking up like this.”

“Me too,” Harry replied. “We could do it everyday. This bed’s a better place with you in it.”

Pansy knew he’d seen what was in her head the night before and now assumed he wanted the same thing. It made her heart beat faster to think of spending every night next to him. Feeling bold, she ran her hands down his back and cupped his firm arse.

“There’s something else I’d like to do with you everyday,” she whispered in his ear and felt his body respond positively.

Pansy’s second experience with lovemaking was even better than the first, and she wished they could spend the whole day in bed together, talking and touching. Someday, Harry promised her. But that day they needed to get dressed and return to The Burrow for a brunch before the newlyweds left for their honeymoon. To expedite the process, Pansy used James’ bathroom to shower while Harry utilized his own. She came back to his room in her slip to dress and found him buttoning up a green shirt, paired with gray trousers.

“Mmmm, you should wear green more often. Matches your eyes,” she told him, reaching into her bag and pulling out a sleeveless dress and matching sweater in pale pink.

“Why Miss Parkinson, did you plan to spend the night here all along? You appear to be well prepared,” Harry teased.

“A pureblood witch is _always_ prepared,” she told him, slipping the dress over her head, and presenting her back to him. “Zip me please.”

He did so and then turned her to claim a kiss before saying, “We need to be going.”

“Let me transfigure my shoes and I’ll be ready.” Pansy picked up her clear shoes from the floor where he’d dropped them the night before. “You still need to tell me that story — Cinderella, was it?”

Harry watched her change them into heeled sandals and her bag from crystal covered to a more casual one. “We can read that book to James tonight before bed. Will you stay again?”

He wanted to wake up with her in his bed every morning, but wasn’t sure how she’d feel about moving in with him and James without being married first. She took his hand and led him out of the room and downstairs.

“We can talk about that later. Let’s go see James. I hope he was no trouble for Molly and Arthur last night. It was a big day for him.”

“It was a big day for everyone.” Harry grinned, earning him a light smack on his arm. “I meant Ron and Lavender,” he claimed.

The floo’d to The Burrow and arrived to find James, Victoire, little Freddie and the rest of the Weasley grandchildren sat down around a table just their size, ready to tuck into brunch.

“Daddy!” James scooted off his child sized chair and ran across the room to Harry, who scooped him up in his arms and accept an enthusiastic embrace from his son. No one ever knew why it happened at that moment, but James’ attention was suddenly caught by a nearby photo. It was one that had been professionally taken of Ginny on her broom in her Harpies uniform, her red hair flying out behind her.

“Who that?” he asked, pointing and Harry turned to look at what he referred.

“That’s your Mum, James,” Harry told him.

“Mum?” the boy repeated. Harry swallowed hard, not able to get out any more words over sudden lump in his throat. He had been showing James pictures and telling him about Ginny for more than a year, but knew the child hadn’t remembered any of it. The other Weasley’s in the room held their collective breath, no one knowing what to say next, when it was clear Harry had gotten emotional. It was Pansy who came to Harry’s rescue.

“Yes, James, that’s your Mum. She was a wonderful witch who loved you very much,” Pansy told him, putting a comforting hand on Harry’s back after seeing the look on his face. Harry thought his heart would burst with love for the kind, generous witch beside him.

The boy looked at Pansy and then back to the photograph and back again, his little brow wrinkled in a frown. He didn’t understand. He pointed to Ginny. “Mum?”

Harry had finally found his voice again. “That’s right, James. That’s your Mum.”

“Not Mum?” the boy pointed at Pansy. Tears filled her eyes and now she couldn’t speak so Harry spoke for her.

“No, Pansy’s not your Mum, but she loves you like one and if you want to call her Mum or Mama I think that would be okay with her and Ginny -- your other, your first Mum.” Harry indicated the photograph. He wasn’t sure if the toddler understood his words, but after the night before, he knew that eventually James would think of Pansy as his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Please let me know what you thought!
> 
> Also, the song they were dancing to is a real song. It's called Last First Kiss by Ron Pope and is included on my Spotify playlist for this story.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the wedding festivities over, Harry and Pansy return to Godric's Hollow and have a conversation about their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Twenty chapters! I'm so glad everyone is enjoying this story. I fall more in love with it myself every day as I explore this life that Harry and Pansy are creating for themselves. Thanks need to go to trinkisme for the initial suggestion and to theoofoof for being my beta and letting me bounce ideas off of her!
> 
> And of course I am eternally grateful to JKR for creating these wonderful characters so I can play with them!

Pansy looked at Harry and the tears that had been in her eyes spilled over, listening what he told James. She wanted nothing more than to be his wife and James’ mother but to hear him say it out loud filled her with happiness. 

“Pans cry?” said James, his own little lip trembling. “No cry.”

“These are happy tears,” she told him. Harry put his free arm around her and pulled her close. James put his own little arm around her neck. She wiped her eyes and smiled at him.  

“See, all better. Come on, let’s eat. I’ll bet Gram made pancakes.” Pansy took him from Harry’s arm and carried him back to his little chair at the table. 

“Pancakes!” The two year old said happily, reaching for a platter piled high with them. 

“Hey, James, save some for me!” said Ron, making everyone laugh. 

Pansy looked at Molly, who was dabbing at her own eyes with the corner of her apron. The older witch nodded, and she knew she and Harry had her blessing. After Ron and Lavender left for their honeymoon, Harry and Pansy returned to the house in Godric’s Hollow with James. The toddler was cranky and out of sorts. It had been a couple of long, busy days that hadn’t followed his usual schedule. Even though it was early for a nap, Harry decided to put the boy down anyway.

“Pans do! Pans do!” he insisted when his father told him it was nap time. After the meltdown he’d had over a toy he didn’t want to share with his cousin while Pansy was helping Molly clean up, Harry was happy to hand him over. It was warm on the second floor of the house. She opened the windows in the boy’s room and cast a cooling charm while she stripped him to his nappie and an undershirt.

“Norbert or Pooh?” she asked and he reached for the dragon. When she put him into his crib, he began to fuss. 

“No nap. Not tired,” the child insisted.

“Oh, but you are,” she said, rubbing his back and trying to get him to lay down in the bed.

“No! Not tired!” A big tear rolled down his face. “Up! Up please.” James held out his arms.

“Oh, baby,” she sighed, and lifted him from the crib. Then she sat down in the rocking chair in the corner and settled him in her lap. Kicking off her shoes, Pansy began to rock gently. At first he squirmed and resisted being still, but after a couple minutes, he lowered his head to her shoulder. Pressing her lips to his soft hair, she started to hum a tune from her own childhood. Soon, his eyes closed and she felt his small form relax in her arms. She continued to rock and closed her own eyes. It had been a long weekend for everyone. Pansy didn’t know how much time had passed or realize Harry had come upstairs until she heard a floorboard creak. Opening her eyes she saw him standing leaned against the door frame.

“I thought maybe you fell asleep with him,” he said quietly. He had stood there for a few minutes, watching her and James, thinking for a witch who didn’t know how to help the toddler with a can of cat food a few months earlier, she looked completely comfortable and natural with him in her arms now.

“I considered it,” she replied with a smile. Pansy held the boy more securely against her body to stand up from the chair. Placing him in his crib, she covered him with a light blanket now that the room was cooler and joined Harry in the hallway, pulling the door mostly closed.

“How about a little nap of our own?” he suggested, putting an arm around her waist. The thought of snuggling with him was very appealing and she let him lead her down the hall to his room. The bed was now made, offering no evidence of the activities that had taken place in it the night before and that morning. Pansy felt her face get warm, remembering. Noticing her looking at the bed and her expression, Harry asked, “No regrets I hope?”

She turned and wrapped her arms around his waist. In bare feet, she had to tilt her head back to look at him. Her eyes were soft and warm. “Not a one. What about you?” Pansy didn’t think he did, but she needed to hear the words.

Harry guided her over to sit on the bed beside him, holding both her hands in his.

“Love, do you know what I told Draco last night when he confronted me, playing protective big brother?”

“Is that what that was?” she asked. “I wondered what you two were going on about when I came outside.”

“He was trying to protect your virtue and I told him he had nothing to worry about. I told him I loved you and would marry you tomorrow if I thought you’d let me.” Her indigo eyes showed a little surprise at his declaration. “I know that it’s only been -- “

“Four months and six days since we went to Diagon Alley the first time,” she finished for him, and they both burst out laughing.

Pansy knew that it should be too soon to be talking about marriage, but her heart told her otherwise. In those four months and six days since she had first spent time with Harry Potter he’d become the man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her days. She could wait the appropriate time to marry him, if that’s what they needed to do. 

When their laughter died, Harry’s green eyes grew serious. “I meant it, Pansy. I want you to be my wife and James’ mother.”

“I want that too, Harry. But what would people think if we got married so soon?”

He flopped back onto the quilt, arms spread wide. “Honestly, I don’t care! I mean, I have no family other than James, and you have no family. Why shouldn’t we make our own as soon as we want?” Pansy turned and lay next to him putting her head on his shoulder and a hand on his chest.

“Technically you’re right, but you know the Weasley’s are your family. So is Hermione. And I know you do care what they think.”

He brought his arms around her to hold her close and pressed a kiss onto her head. She was right, of course. And being a voice of reason for him was just one of the many reasons he loved her. He said so out loud, earning him a soft laugh and a kiss on the cheek.

“Budge up to the pillow and let’s have a rest before someone wakes up,” Pansy told him. They moved so they were more comfortable and closed their eyes. Soon both were fast asleep in each other’s arms. It had been a long weekend for everyone. When they woke nearly two hours later, it was to the sound of happy two year old chatter coming from James’ room. Pansy went to freshen up while Harry retrieved the child, who was in a much better mood, having rested.

Harry wanted to ask Pansy if she was going to stay the night again. Having slept and woke up beside her twice now, he wanted to keep doing it. While they were sat having dinner, he tentatively broached the subject.

“So, did you think about staying the night again?”

“James, use your spoon, not your fingers,” she said, handing the child sized utensil to the toddler, who was eating mashed potatoes. Then, looking at Harry she answered his question. “I did and I want to.”

“But,” he prompted, hearing the unspoken word in her telling tone.

“But I need to go home and feed Versace. He’s been alone for two days now.  I know he’s a cat, but he’s not accustomed to being by himself that much. Besides, I don’t have any clothes.”

Pansy knew the second reason was an excuse. She could always transfigure something. Suddenly, however, she was feeling a little unsure. Not about Harry. She loved him with all her heart and wanted to marry him. But after hearing him say he was ready take vows tomorrow, she felt like things were moving faster than she was ready. Harry nodded. Like lovemaking, he wasn’t going to push her. That didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed and tried not to let it show. 

“Okay,” he told her. “I understand.”

After helping with James bath and bedtime routine, she kissed him goodnight as they tucked him in with his dragon and teddy bear. 

“Good night, James. I love you,” she told him.

“Night, night, Pans-mama,” he said. “Wuv you.”

At the two year old’s words, her breath caught in her throat. She turned and fled the room. Harry found her standing in front of the fireplace, purse in hand.

“Pansy,” Harry began.    
  
“I -- I need to go. I love you.” She hugged him quickly, pressing a hard kiss to his lips and stepped away before he could respond, tossing the floo powder and disappeared, leaving Harry standing there, bewildered. 

Arriving at her flat, she stumbled out, collapsed on her couch and gave into the tears that had threatened since she heard James call her mama and say love you back to her. It was sheer mimicry of Victoire when he’d called her mama during the wedding; and she was sure it was a sleepy rambling when she was comforting him after Lavender’s dress was torn. But this was a conscious use of the word and it struck an emotional chord deep inside her. He needed a mother and she wanted to fill that role, as much as if he had grown inside her own womb. Versace had come running when he heard her return, ready to demand wet food he hadn’t gotten for two days even though he’d had plenty of dry, but the sounds of her crying stopped him. Jumping lightly onto the couch beside her, he nudged the hands she had covering her face with his head. 

“Oh, Sachy,” she cried, pulling him into her arms and burying her face in his soft fur, letting it absorb her tears. He licked her face with his rough tongue, offering cat comfort as best he could. After a few minutes, Pansy took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. Crying wasn’t going to solve anything. She needed to decide: was she going to move ahead with a permanent relationship with Harry and not care whether people — the Weasley’s specifically — thought it was too soon, or tell him they needed to wait and feel her heart break every time James called her mama.

She put Versace on the floor and went to get him some fresh food and water and cleaned out his litter box. Maybe doing other things instead of dwelling on it would help. Then she went into her bedroom to change clothes and unpack her bag, which, thanks to the extension charm, still contained her gown from the wedding among other things. Using her wand to accio the contents, things zoomed out and landed on her bed. She picked up her gown to hang it and something small fell to the floor. It was James’ bow tie from his wedding suit. They’d removed it for him to eat dinner at the wedding and it remained on the table after Molly took him away from the reception. When she and Harry left, she tucked it into her bag and forgot it was there. Gown abandoned, she retrieved it, feeling emotional again. James had lost the mother who gave him life; she couldn’t deny him a mother’s love. Her decision was made. Putting the tiny tie in her jeans pocket, she hung up her gown in the closet and removed some clothes from hangers, putting them in the bag, silently thanking Hermione for teaching her the extension charm. Underwear, bras, a jumper or two and a couple pairs of shoes joined them. Then toiletries from the bathroom. Versace had sat on the bed watching all this with feline curiosity. 

“Cat,” Pansy said when she was satisfied with her packing, “we’re going on a little trip.” 

She went to her storage closet where his carrier was kept, thinking what mode of transportation to use. Apparation was out of the question. She didn’t want Versace to get splinched. Flooing was probably best, but…..she looked at the clock. Crap.  More time had passed than she thought. Harry would have his floo closed for the night at this point. There was always the Knight Bus. She shuddered. No, that wasn’t an option. Pansy removed the cat carrier from the closet that she hadn’t used since Versace was a kitten and something fell forward onto the floor. Her broomstick. One that she hadn’t been on in years, just like she’d told Harry.  Picking it up, she looked at it thoughtfully. This could be her only option if she wanted to return to Godric’s Hollow that night. And she did. Taking a settling breath, she calculated how long it would take her to get there on the broom.

The journey did take a little longer than she anticipated because not only hadn’t she flown in years, but she had never done so with cargo. The cat carrier attached to the back of the broom made it more difficult to fly and took more concentration and energy. It was late and Pansy was magically exhausted by the time she reached Godric’s Hollow. Landing in Harry’s backyard, she’d have let the broom fall to the ground but remembered Versace, who had been outspoken about his mode of travel at first, but settled into silent feline annoyance after he realized it was going to last a while. Lowering the broom, she removed the charm that had held the carrier onto it.

“I hope Harry’s still awake,” she whispered to the cat.

Harry was still awake, propped against the pillows, trying to concentrate on the book from his nightstand, but found himself reading the same paragraphs over. After Pansy’s abrupt departure, he poured himself a glass of firewhisky and sat outside in their lounger, looking at the stars and trying to figure out why she’d bolted. She said she loved him, and he believed she did. But she also said she thought it was too soon to talk about getting married. He would wait, if that’s what she really wanted. Then he heard sounds from James’ room and went to check on him. The child was half awake and fussing, chewing on his fingers. He was probably getting a new tooth. Offering him a drop of teething potion, the toddler settled back down, snuggling with Norbert. Harry locked up the floo and went to his own room to read. So there he was when he heard sounds in the backyard come through the open window. He put the book down, slid his glasses back on and picked up his wand. Before he could get to the window to look outside, he heard a knock at the front door. Puzzled who was knocking at his door at this hour, he went down the stairs and opened it, wand hand hanging loosely at his side, ready to be raised if necessary. The last person he expected to see was Pansy, looking disheveled and exhausted and holding an animal carrier.

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry for running out earlier!” she burst out, crossing the threshold. Putting the carrier down, she flung her arms around him. Harry slid his wand back into his pocket and closed the door, then returned her embrace.

“Pansy,” he murmured into her hair, rubbing his hands up and down her back, happy to have her back, but confused why she showed up at his front door. “You’re cold, love,” he added when he felt her shiver. “How did you get here?”

“I flew,” she told him, burying her face in his chest. He was wearing an old Quidditch shirt, soft and thin from wear and washing and she could feel the warmth of his skin through it.

“You flew?” He grasped her arms and put her away from him so he could look at her. Flying would explain why her hair looked messier than he’d ever seen it. “Why?”

“Because I knew your floo would be closed and I couldn’t apparate with Versace and I wasn’t going to take the Knight Bus and I couldn’t wait until the morning to come back!” She spoke quickly and her voice cracked at the end of the sentence. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left. You’re right, it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. I love you and I want to be a family with you and James.”

Pansy put her arms around his neck, stretched up on her toes and kissed him, putting all her emotions into the gesture. Harry responded with equal passion and was about to reach for the hem of her jumper, when a loud yowl interrupted them. Versace was done being in his carrier. They ended the kiss reluctantly and she giggled. 

“I think someone would like to be set free,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind I brought him.”

“Not if it means you’re moving in.” Harry placed one more kiss on her lips and dropped his arms when another disgruntled sound emanated from the carrier. Pansy didn’t reply, but knelt to open the door. The cat poked his head out and gave a cautious sniff. Then he stepped out of the carrier. She ran a hand down his back and up his tail.

“It’s okay, Sachy,” Pansy said to him, looking up at Harry. “You’ll like it here.” She stood back up. “My bag is still in the backyard with the broom.”

“I’ll get it and put the broomstick in the shed with mine,” he told her and walked from the room. She heard the back door open. Then she sank down in a chair, watching the cat explore the room. Taking out her wand, she transfigured the carrier into a litter box, remembering that she’d left his behind.

“Pansy, you’re lucky you made it here on that broom!” Harry said, returning with the bag in his hand. “How old is it? And when was it last serviced?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s the one I got fourth year, maybe. I don’t remember. It was in my storage closet with the cat carrier.”

“Well, you’re not flying it again. We’ll get you a new one the next time we go into Diagon Alley,” he said firmly, then took her hand, pulling her to her feet. “But now it’s time to go to bed. It’s late and James will be up at his regular time no matter when we go to sleep.”

Harry led her upstairs to his room, and she took her bag from him and went into the bathroom. When she emerged, he was already in bed. They had slept naked the night before after making love but she normally wore clothes to bed and now had on a simple summer cotton nightgown with thin straps. Nothing fancy or sexy, but the way Harry looked at her as she walked across the room made her feel as if she was wearing a lacy negligee. She drew the light covers back and slid into bed beside him. He immediately took off his glasses, put them on the nightstand and rolled to face her.

“I’m glad you came back,” he said quietly, reaching for her and pulling her against him. He wore only a pair of boxers. She could feel he was partially aroused and it made her pulse speed up. 

“Me too,” she replied, kissing him gently, running her finger tips across his shoulders, feeling goosebumps appear in their wake. “I love you, Harry.”

“I love you, too, Pansy.” Then he proceeded to show her with his hands and lips, just how much; stoking her desire and his own until they were both sated and sleepy. Then they fell asleep as they had the night before; in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this lived up to expectations after the last chapter. Please let me know what you all think! Next chapter we go with Hermione to visit the healer.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione’s appointment with the healer about her pregnancy concerns.

Almost a week after Ron and Lavender’s wedding found Hermione and Draco, who insisted on accompanying her, sat in the waiting room of the gynaecological and maternity section of St. Mungo’s. There were three other witches in the room with them, in various stages of pregnancy and Hermione tried hard not to feel sorry for herself; just as she had when she saw Luna at the wedding. Being a mother was all Hermione had wanted since she was a little girl. Oh, she had a few career ambitions once she’d gotten to Hogwarts, but deep down she just wanted to have a houseful of children. Maybe not as many as Molly and Arthur but two or three. Maybe four. Having been an only child, Hermione didn’t know what it like to have someone to grow up with, share laughs and secrets with. When she met Harry and Ron and been assimilated into the Weasley family even though her relationship with Ron didn’t last, she knew even more she wanted a large family. Draco wasn’t as sure, as he’d enjoyed being the sole focus of his parents’ attention as a child. But as an adult, his mother had explained to him it wasn’t by choice he had no siblings. Like Hermione was experiencing, Narcissa Malfoy had a hard time getting pregnant and then had hemorrhaged badly at his birth, requiring surgery that prevented her from having additional children.

Draco reached over and took his wife’s hand, knowing what she was likely thinking, sitting amongst the pregnant women. Like most men, he had little knowledge beyond the basics of the female reproductive system and when Hermione came to him concerned that she wasn’t getting pregnant when they stopped using the contraceptive spell, he thought she was just expecting too much too soon. But after several months went by and she was resorting to Muggle home tests as well as spells to figure out why and getting more upset, he suggested she might want to see a healer. And now there they sat, waiting to be seen. As if someone had read his mind, a witch appeared in an open doorway, calling their names. Interlocking their fingers, Draco stood and pulled his wife to her feet and they followed her down the hallway to an examination room. One of the benefits of magical medicine was, for the most part, undressing wasn’t needed for exams, gynaecological included. Draco helped Hermione up on the exam table and stood beside her, keeping a comforting hand on her back. A friendly looking healer swept in the room, his red robes swirling behind him. He was tall and slightly plump, with salt and pepper hair, mustache and matching goatee, all of it neatly trimmed. Silver spectacles perched on his nose.

“Mrs. Malfoy  -- Hermione, is it? I’m Healer Krivinko.” He spoke with an accent that reminded her of her Yule Ball date and former quidditch star Viktor Krum.

He asked some questions about her medical history, including the injuries she sustained during the war. Then he asked her to lie back on the table so he could conduct some tests. Draco had been quiet during the questions, learning more about what had happened to his wife at the hands of his Aunt Bellatrix than he realized. He knew about the slur carved into her forearm of course. The first time he kissed it tenderly and apologized to her, they’d both shed tears. But he hadn’t realized the extent of the torture and the number of times she’d been crucio’d.

The healer cast some diagnostic spells and the results appeared on a parchment that lay on a nearby counter. Where he sat on the other side of Hermione, Draco was too far away to be able to read the words, but when the wizard hummed under his breath and frowned, he looked at his wife’s face to see if she’d noticed. Of course she had; she’d been watching the healer intently and now was biting on the inside of her lip. Her husband knew it was to keep herself from asking questions. Finally, the examination ended, and Healer Krivinko extended a hand to help Hermione sit up. He turned and added a few notes to the parchment then turned back to the couple.

“It seems that you have some damage to your Fallopian tubes, Hermione,” he said. “And one of your ovaries. Probably from the cruciatus curses. But your other ovary and your uterus looks fine.”

She paled and Draco stood to put an arm around her. “What does that mean?” he asked.

“It means the damaged ovary is probably not releasing any eggs and when the other does release an egg it has a hard time getting to her uterus for fertilization,” the healer explained.

“Which means I can’t get pregnant,” Hermione added in a small voice, head bowed.

“I wouldn’t say at all,” said the red-robed wizard kindly. “The percentage is just low.”

“How low?” Draco asked.

“I don’t like to put numbers to things like this, because there’s always a possibility.”

But the pair who had been the top scholars in their class liked hard facts they could see on parchment.

“Healer Krivinko, please. What is it? Twenty-five percent? Fifteen?” Hermione pressed, lifting her head to look at him, eyes pleading for a concrete answer. Draco’s arm tightened around her when he shook his head.

“If I had to give you a number — which I can’t say for certain is correct, because each situation is different — I’d say it’s more like five to ten percent that you could get pregnant. But that’s not zero. There’s always a chance.” He put a gentle hand on her arm. “And there are other options. We can talk about them if you like.”

She shook her head, biting her lip to suppress the tears that were threatening.

“Thank you,” said Draco. “You’ve given us some things to talk about. Can we make an appointment to discuss those options another time?”

“Of course, of course. Hermione remember, you’re young and otherwise healthy. If you have any other questions, feel free to send me an owl.” Bidding them goodbye, the healer left the room with another swirl of his robes.

As the door closed behind them, the sound of a crying infant reached their ears, squalling as if it was recently born. Hermione turned and buried her head in her husband’s shoulder.

“I don’t think I can walk out through there,” she whispered. The hand that wasn’t around her moved to cup her face.

“Let me see what I can do, my love,” Draco told her, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

Sometimes Hermione was glad for the benefits of being married to a Malfoy, because when he returned, he apparated them straight from the examination room back to their flat. They stood there, Draco’s arms around his wife; her hands fisted into his robes, forehead against his chest. He could feel her trembling, trying to maintain the rein on her emotions she’d had since they were at St. Mungo’s. His heart was breaking for the witch that he loved, knowing how devastated she was by the healer’s diagnosis.

“Hermione.” He ran a hand down the curls at the back of her head. “We’re home now. It’s just us.”

At the confirmation that they were alone, she let the thin wall of her composure shatter and began to sob. He led her to the sofa, where he drew her down beside him and held her close while she cried. A highly intelligent -- some would even say brilliant -- wizard, Draco had a vocabulary beyond his years from a very young age, but at that moment was at a loss for words. He didn’t know what he could say that would comfort his wife. What he did know is that he hated his aunt more than ever now, and was glad Molly Weasley had killed her; otherwise he might have been tempted to pay Bellatrix a visit and see how much she liked being at the receiving end of a cruciatus curse or two. Or six. He ground his teeth thinking about the healer’s words that it was likely those curses that damaged Hermione’s reproductive system. He continued to hold her as she cried and pulled herself closer into him. After a while her sobs lessened and died away and her breathing became more regular and for a moment Draco thought she’d cried herself to sleep in his arms. Then she lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were puffy and red. He pulled a handkerchief from inside his robes and gently wiped her face.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” she said hoarsely.

“Sorry for what? Sorry that my evil bitch of an aunt tortured you? If anyone should be apologizing it should be me. I should be on my knees begging your forgiveness for letting her harm a hair on your head, Hermione.”

“I’m sorry I can’t give you a - a child!” If she’d had any tears left, they would have welled in her eyes.

“Bloody hell,” Draco muttered. He took her face in his hands. “Look at me, Granger.” Her watery brown gaze met his loving gray one. “I don’t care whether you give me a dozen children or none. I didn’t marry you to be a brood mare. I married you because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He gently kissed her eyes, then her lips. He could taste the salt from her tears. Hermione gave a little sob at his tenderness. She knew Draco loved her and she believed what he said about children. But that didn’t make her feel any less of a failure. She grasped his wrists and placed a kiss on each palm.

“I love you, Draco,” she said.

“I love you.” He stood up and pulled her to standing. “I’m going to make some tea. Why don’t you go freshen up?”   
  
“Is that your way of saying I look like hell, Malfoy?” Hermione smiled a little.

“It’s my way of saying I think you’ll feel better if you washed your face.” He took his thumb and wiped some mascara from her cheek, then kissed it. “Go. I’ll bring the tea in the bedroom.”

He swatted at her arse as she turned, making her look at him over her shoulder and smile again, before walking away. Draco made two cups of tea and carried them down the hall to their bedroom where he found Hermione curled up on the bed, sound asleep, exhausted from her emotional outburst. Putting the cups on the dresser, he toed off his shoes, removed his robes and lay down on the bed behind her. He put an arm around her to hold her close, burying his nose in her curls; wishing this was one thing he could wave his wand and use magic to fix.

When Hermione awoke, she was surprised she had been asleep so long. She’d only intended to close her eyes and rest while Draco made tea. The tea that still sat on the dresser where he’d put it. She was alone now, but she had a vague recollection of him snuggling her while she slept. Hovering in the air above said tea cups was a piece of parchment. Throwing back the light blanket Draco had obviously covered her with she got out of bed and crossed to the dresser, touching a cup. Still at perfect drinking temperature, which meant he’d charmed it to stay that way for her. Smiling, she picked it up and took a sip, reaching for the parchment with her other hand and read the note written in his perfect penmanship:

 

**_You were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you, but I needed to leave to make my tee time with the guys. I’ll be home for dinner. I love you, Granger._ **

 

**_D_ **

 

Hermione remembered that was the day he was playing golf with their former classmates. Draco discovered the Muggle sport a few years ago and introduced it to his friends. Now they had a standing game every month where they would good naturedly bicker over who had the best (or worst) swing, and accuse each other of secretly using magic to sink putts successfully.

“You’re late, Malfoy,” drawled Blaise, from his spot lounging in a golf cart where he was watching the rest of their group practice on the driving range. Normally it was composed of him and Draco, Harry, Ron, George and Neville. Ron was missing that day, since he and Lavender were on their honeymoon.

Draco hefted his golf bag from his shoulder to the rack on the back of the cart. “Sorry. Granger and I -- “

“Whoa!” teased Harry, who had finished hitting balls to warm up and joined them at the cart. “I don’t need to hear about what you do with my son’s godmother.”

Draco simply smiled and went about changing his shoes. The green-eyed wizard looked over his bent head at Blaise. Normally, the blonde would have had a snarky comeback to a jibe about his sex life. The other former Slytherin shrugged. He too, was surprised at the lack of response. George and Neville joined the trio and they set off in two carts to the first hole. Today they were playing at the Royal Blackheath Golf Club where Blaise and Draco were members. They were four holes into the game when Neville asked Blase how Luna was doing.

“When is she due again?” the Hogwarts herbology professor asked as he teed up.

“Couple weeks,” said Blaise. “But we’d both be happy for it to happen any day. She can’t get comfortable, I spend every night rubbing her feet or her back and she’s always hot so she keeps the house frigid with cooling charms!”

“I remember those days before little Freddie was born,” sympathized George. His choice of golf attire was always a source of amusement to the friends. He had chosen to pattern his sporting wardrobe after American golf champion Payne Stewart. Today his ensemble consisted of bright yellow knickers, a royal blue and white jumper that had solid blue sleeves and blue and white stripes on the front. On his legs he wore yellow and blue argyle socks. His red head sported a cap that matched his pants.

“Angie kept me freezing too! The only time I was warm was next to her in bed at night and then she’d tell me I was making her hot! And the mood swings! I thought they were bad at the beginning, but at the end nothing made her happy! I think I spent more time in the store than I did at home, just trying to avoid her!” George and Blaise laughed together.

Draco took his position at the tee now that Neville had hit his ball down the fairway and swung viciously, slicing the ball into the trees. “Buggering bloody hell!” he shouted, slamming his driver down on the ground before shoving it roughly back into his bag. That was the second time his ball had gone into the wooded border that day.

“Take your turn Potter, so we can play on,” he growled, running his hands through his hair and stalking past the golf cart to sit down hard on the front bumper, resting his elbows on his knees and staring down at the manicured green.

Malfoy was usually the most even tempered and better skilled golfer. It was a surprise to all of them to see him make a bad shot and get angry over it. They all exchanged glances, wondering what was wrong with their friend. Harry took his shot and they piled into the carts to move down the fairway, Draco slouched next to Blaise who was at the wheel.

Draco’s head wasn’t in his game today. He kept thinking about their appointment that morning and Hermione’s reaction to the news. When he’d left the examination room to ask permission to apparate, the healer stopped him in the hallway and handed him some leaflets. He urged him to read them and discuss them with his wife. One was on adoption. The other one was about some kind of Muggle thing called in-vitro fertilization. He’d skim read it and it looked like it was a medical procedure where they created a baby in a laboratory and then put it in the mother. He was going to show them to Hermione when he took her the tea but she’d been asleep. He almost didn’t come golfing but then decided it might take his mind off things. That was until Blaise and George starting talking. They had no right to complain about their wives when they had given or were giving them a beautiful baby, he thought angrily.

“Draco, you’re up, mate,” Harry’s voice penetrated his thoughts. He looked up to see him standing beside the cart where he sat. He shook his head.

“I’m not into this today. I’ll probably end up 10 over. I’ll just watch you blokes fight to make par.” Draco attempted a smirk, but it came out half hearted. Harry’s eyebrows rose, wrinkling his famous scar.

“Draco Malfoy is forfeiting a golf game? Unheard of. What’s up with you today? Did you and Hermione have a fight or something?”

Harry knew his best friend could be as stubborn as the wizard in front of him, which didn’t bode well for marital discourse. Malfoy was surprised Potter didn’t know what was going on with him and Hermione. He knew his wife had told Pansy and also that Harry and Pansy’s relationship had taken a serious turn of late. So he figured she’d have filled him in.

“Potter’s right, Draco,” added Blaise, who was now standing beside the cart, his arm resting on the roof. “I’ve never known you to give up an opportunity to best someone at sport. So start talking.”

Draco sighed. Maybe if he told them about it, he’d be able to understand it better himself. And help Hermione.

“Hermione and I went to see a healer this morning,” he began.

“A healer? Who’s sick?” asked Neville. “Maybe I can help with an herbal remedy.”

“No one’s sick. And I wish it was something that could be fixed with a potion or a plant,” Draco said wryly, recalling his own wish that he could solve the problem magically. He felt badly sharing this intimate information about his wife, but he also knew all of them were aware of what Bellatrix had done to her. “We went to see a healer because Hermione, um, she wanted to know why she couldn’t get pregnant.”

“What did they say?” prompted Blaise.

“She has some, uh, damage from when Bellatrix tortured her. The healer said the chances of her getting pregnant are about five to ten percent.”

“Hermione must be shattered,” said Harry, knowing how much his friend wanted to have children. Draco nodded.

“She is. She had a total meltdown when we got home from St. Mungo’s. Said she felt like a failure.”

“And you left her to come play golf?” Neville exclaimed. He wasn’t married, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t a good decision.

“She fell asleep and I thought this might take my mind off it,” Draco admitted. “I don’t know what to do to help her; make her feel better. I feel helpless. And guilty because Bellatrix was my aunt.”

“Mate, go home,” said George, who had been married the longest of all of them. “Take her some flowers, cook her dinner, speak beautiful words of love in her ear. Then shag her senseless and try and make a baby with that five to ten percent chance. Even if it doesn’t work, it will make both of you feel better than her sitting home alone and you losing golf balls in the woods.”

The others nodded in agreement and Draco felt a little better having shared his feelings with his friends. They were alone on the course, but he stepped into the shadow of the trees nonetheless, in order to apparate home to Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after a photo I found of Tom Felton playing golf with Rupert Grint and the Phelps twins, there was a discussion on tumblr and the second half of this chapter was born. George’s outfit is one Payne Stewart really wore!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione seeks solace in books and ends up having lunch with Narcissa before returning home to Draco. Harry and Pansy have a serious conversation about their future and take another nighttime broom ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another long chapter. I had it written as two, but decided to combine them since it all takes place on the same day, picking up after the conversation on the golf course.

In Draco’s absence, the brightest witch of her age decided to do what she did best when presented with a problem and that was research possible solutions. Hermione was heartbroken over what the healer had said, but after she’d a chance to rest and calm down she was able to think a little more rationally. Since her injuries were caused by Dark Magic, she was fairly certain there was no magical way to repair the damage, but maybe there was a way around it. A way to get the eggs from her one functioning ovary to her uterus. Leaving a note for Draco in case he returned from his golf game before she got back, Hermione set off for the best library she knew next to Hogwarts: the one at Malfoy Manor.

She stepped out of the main floo fireplace at her in-laws and heard a familiar childish giggle from the smaller of the two dining rooms in the manor. Hurrying down the hall, she stopped in the doorway to see Narcissa, Pansy and James sitting at the table together, the toddler laughing at one of the white peacocks that roamed the grounds pecking at the glass doors, as if knocking to request entry.

“I thought I knew that laugh,” she said with a smile.

“Auntie ‘Mione!” exclaimed the boy, moving to climb down from his chair, that had been transfigured to be taller so that he could reach the table. He was stopped by Narcissa placing a manicured hand on his shoulder.

“Young man, we ask to be excused before we leave the table,” she said gently. “Say may I be excused.”

“May be ‘scused,” he parroted and she removed her hand and magically lowered the chair.

“Yes, you may.”

He scrambled off and ran to Hermione, throwing himself at her. She picked him up and held him tight, tears pricking at her eyes as she inhaled his sweet baby scent.

“Hi, Jamie,” she whispered. “You’re just what I need right now.” Then clearing her throat, she blew raspberries under his chin, making him giggle and squirm. Carrying him back to his chair, she returned him to his seat at the table, then turned to the raven-haired witch. “Pansy, what are you two doing here?”

“Mrs. M invited me for lunch to talk about a gown she needs for a ball and since Harry is playing golf today, I brought James along with me.”

“Plus, I wanted to hear all about her and Harry, of course.” Her mother-in-law extended an arm, an unspoken command for her to come closer and kiss her powdered cheek. “Hermione, dear, why don’t you join us?”

Hermione did as she was bid and then replied, “I’d love to. I realized I’ve not had lunch and I’m starving.”

She took a seat beside Pansy and a place setting magically appeared on the table before her, with the same portions Narcissa and her friend had.

“What brings you here, Hermione?” asked Draco’s mother.

“I, um, wanted to do some research in the library,” she replied, spooning soup into her mouth.

Pansy knew her appointment at St. Mungo’s had been that morning and wanted to ask how it went and if that was the cause of her need for research. She didn’t know how much her friend’s mother-in-law knew about her fertility concerns, however, so she kept quiet.

“What ball are you organizing now, Narcissa, that Pansy’s making you a gown?” Hermione changed the subject. “A new cause?”

The Malfoy matriarch noticed of course, but allowed the topic to be diverted, explaining she was organizing a fundraiser for a new wizarding orphanage. Neither of the young witches knew there was a need for such a thing. When the meal was over and James’ head was nodding, Narcissa offered to put him down for a nap in Draco’s old nursery. After a kiss from Pansy and being handed Norbert from her bag, the two year old went willingly in the older witch’s arms.

“She probably hasn’t changed that nursery since Draco moved out of it,” said Hermione with a choked laugh. “Waiting for grandbabies to use it.”

Pansy nodded. “My mom would have done the same thing.” She pulled her sketch book from her bag and then added, “I know your appointment was today. Is that why you’re here to do research? What did the healer say?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, that’s while I’m here. You know me: research is the key to solving a problem.”

“What problem would that be, dear?”

The two younger witches turned around to see Narcissa standing in a doorway other than the one through which she exited. She had returned to the dining room via a different -- and carpeted -- hallway and her footsteps were muffled. Hermione swallowed. On one hand, she wanted nothing more to pour out her fears and concerns and get some motherly comfort. But on the other, she was still somewhat intimidated by her and didn’t know if her inability to conceive would be seen as failure or a weakness caused by her Muggle blood, even though she knew by this point that much of Draco’s parents’ prejudices had been due to misinformation.

“I think you should tell her, Hermione,” said Pansy softly. “Mrs. M is a good listener. She gave me many a shoulder to cry on after my mum died.”

“This sounds like something we should retire to the drawing room to discuss,” said Narcissa smoothly, turning to lead the way. “Perhaps with a glass of wine?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t,” started Hermione, then realized that pretty much let the cat out of the bag. She bit her lip and cast a glance at Pansy, who smiled and linked their arms so they could follow as they’d been instructed.

When they entered, Narcissa was already seated in the wingback chair she always chose in this room with a pot of tea and three cups on the table beside it.  She held out one first to Hermione who took it and sat down stiffly on the sofa which was her usual seat of choice, because Draco would sit beside, his arm across the back of it behind her. Hermione knew without even tasting the tea it that it was fixed exactly the way she took it. Pansy took the third cup and chose another wingback chair, curling her legs beneath her. She had known Narcissa Malfoy for more than two decades and knew that not only had she heard what Hermione said, probably also suspected exactly why. Part of her wanted to make an excuse to go check on James to give them privacy for a conversation that was probably going to be uncomfortable for her friend, but also knew her presence would be supportive. She’d meant what she said earlier. After her mother died and Pansy was trying to get her own life sorted, she spent many days in this very chair drinking tea and getting advice from Mrs. M as Pansy had referred to her since she and Draco were small. Her own mum had been Mrs. P to him. Of course that was only in the casual privacy of their respective homes. Finally, after what seemed to Hermione to a far longer span of of silence than it really was, Narcissa spoke in her quiet, cultured, melodic voice,

“Hermione, are you pregnant? Or trying to get pregnant?”

 _Nothing like getting straight to the point,_ Hermione thought, nearly choking on her tea. She looked at Pansy, who gave her an encouraging nod. Hermione took a deep breath and let it out.

“I am definitely not pregnant. And according to the healer I saw this morning at St. Mungo’s, the odds of me ever getting pregnant are only five to ten percent.” She managed to get the words out without her voice catching, although it got husky by the time she got to ‘percent’. Her eyes were on her mother-in-law, but in her peripheral vision she saw Pansy’s eyes go wide with surprise. _Might as well get it all out_ , she thought and continued. “I have only one fully functioning ovary and both my fallopian tubes are damaged. From being crucio’d by --” This time her voice did break and she couldn’t finish.

“Bellatrix.” Narcissa Malfoy finished the sentence in a tone frighteningly quiet and her face fierce with anger. “My sister.”

Hermione nodded, unable to speak. In a heartbeat, though, the look changed to compassion and she was on her feet, moving to sit beside her daughter-in-law and envelope her in slender loving arms.

“Oh, my darling girl!” Narcissa exclaimed.

Hermione had been embraced many times by the Malfoy matriarch since she and Draco began dating, but it was always brief. Now, resting her head on the older witch’s shoulder, the comforting smell of her perfume reminded her of all the times she’d been on the receiving end of an embrace from her own mother. A sob bubbled up and out of her chest before she could control it. Narcissa stroked her hair and made comforting sounds and Hermione had a fleeting thought that her tears were probably staining her mother-in-law’s silk dress. Pansy brushed away her own tears and then quietly excused herself, leaving them alone.

As she comforted the curly haired witch her son loved more than his own life crying on her shoulder, Narcissa Malfoy was seething inside. She had tried not to watch what her older sister did to the young woman in her arms; tried to keep Draco from watching. But they couldn’t close their ears to her screams. When the pair began dating and Draco brought her home for dinner the first time, Narcissa woke up in a cold sweat that night, Hermione’s cries echoing in her head. After Voldemort was destroyed, she had closed off the room where it all took place, but after Draco proposed to Hermione and requested to have the wedding at the Manor, she unsealed the doors and went inside. It was dusty and covered in cobwebs but otherwise looked exactly as it had that fateful day, the chandelier Dobby dropped still in shattered pieces of crystal on the floor. The slender witch wielded her wand with a fury, destroying walls and windows and transfiguring that portion of the manor into an open outdoor expanse, unrecognizable from what it once had been. She later worked tirelessly to turn it into a garden with a large flowering tree that grew from the spot where Hermione had lain. It was charmed to bloom year round.

After a few moments, Hermione lifted her head from her mother-in-law’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“Hermione, darling, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Narcissa held her firmly by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Nothing.”

She conjured a delicate handkerchief and wiped her face with it. “Now, you said something about wanting to use the library. You came to look for possible solutions, didn’t you?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. I know there’s no magical way to repair what the curse did. But I thought maybe there was a magical way around it. Muggles have a procedure where they can harvest a woman’s eggs and fertilize them in a laboratory.” She paused at the surprised look on the older witch’s face. “Then once they’re fertilized they put them back into the mother’s uterus.”

“Does that work?” Narcissa asked, her mind awhirl, trying to comprehend what she’d just been told.

“Sometimes. Sometimes not.” Judging by the look on Narcissa’s face, Hermione was guessing the magical world didn’t do such things and her heart sank.

Hermione stepped out of the floo at her flat later that day, her heart just as heavy as when they’d left the healer’s office. After two hours in the Malfoy library, she’d come to the conclusion that witches and wizards had children the way nature intended and if they couldn’t, they were childless. She just wanted to go to bed, pull the covers over her head and pretend this was all just a terrible nightmare.

“Love, is that you?”

At the sound of her husband’s voice Hermione’s eyes filled with tears, even though she thought she had cried herself dry. He came into the room and saw her standing there, lip trembling and in two long strides was gathering her into his arms, feeling a sense of deja vu from earlier that day when they returned from St. Mungo’s. Draco had been waiting for her to return to put George’s advice to practice. A bouquet of flowers stood on the dining room table, wine was opened and ready to be poured and dinner was warm under a charm. His heart broke seeing her so despondent.

“No more tears, my love,” he told her, cupping her face in his hands, kissing her lips with feather like gentleness.

Draco’s kisses always had the power to excite and arouse her and this was no exception. The fact that his lips were barely touching hers instantly made her want to feel his body against hers. Her hands went to his waist and she put her fingers through the belt loops on his trousers and tugged him closer. She went on tiptoes and pressed her lips harder against his, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, knowing the reaction it would elicit. As expected, he moaned and his hands went from her face to her hair, gently undoing the loose updo she had used to rein in her curls.

“Hermione,” he said, before sweeping his tongue across her lips that immediately parted to accept it.

For once in her life, Hermione didn’t want to think or analyze or evaluate She wanted her husband’s hands and lips to drive all the memories of that day from her head. She wanted to be consumed with the fires of desire he ignited in her. Her hands desperately plucked at his shirt to pull it from his waistband and then moved to the buttons, which her fingers couldn’t undo fast enough. She cast a nonverbal spell and the shirt fell open, baring his muscular chest to her. She pulled her lips from his and pressed them to his neck, his collarbone and then down his sternum before working her way back up to his neck where she sucked hard enough to leave a mark, her hands pushing his shirt away from his shoulders. Draco’s hands had moved from her hair down her back to cup her bum, pulling her hips against his so she could feel his arousal.

“Draco,” she gasped against his lips as he went to claim them again in a searing kiss. “I need you. Now.”

Still kissing her, Draco waved his hand and the coffee table slid away. Another wave and he summoned the soft blanket that lay on the back of the sofa and it spread itself out in the space where the table had been. Hermione stepped out of her shoes and reached behind her for the zipper on her skirt, but her husband was faster and had it open and the skirt in a pool at her ankles. She kicked it away and reached for his belt buckle and soon his trousers joined her skirt; his shirt and her blouse soon following. He drew her down onto the blanket and pulled her close; one hand on her hip, the other at her back to unhook her bra. A moment later her breasts were pressed against his bare chest.

“Hermione, love,” he murmured against the soft skin of her neck, nibbling at the spot he knew would make her gasp, while one hand moved to caress her breasts.

“Shhh,” she pressed her fingers to his lips. “No talking.”

Her other hand moved to the front of his boxers, making him groan. Then she reached inside the waistband to grasp him firmly and he groaned again. Pushing him onto his back, she did something she had never done before and vanished both their underwear, removing the remaining barriers between them. Then she straddled her husbands hips and slowly guided herself on to him, joining them completely. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her other senses. What she felt: the sensation of being filled and stretched, his hands on her hips, and the muscles of his chest under her hands. What she heard: Draco’s and her own breathing, which became heavier as their movements picked up speed and they chased release. She was on the precipice when he suddenly sat up. The shift in position was enough push them both over the edge and he captured her mouth with his, swallowing her cry of pleasure. Hermione clung to Draco, panting for breath. A single tear rolled down her cheek. He was her life, her love, her everything.

******************

Pansy’s decision to return to the house in Godric’s Hollow made everyone happy, starting with the youngest occupant.

That first morning, James was overjoyed when he woke to find Versace in his crib with him and awakened Harry and Pansy with his cries of “Kitty! Kitty in my bed! Daddy! Kitty in my bed!” Harry looked at Pansy and rolled out of bed, pulling on a t-shirt.

“You’d better get up. Once James is awake, everyone is awake,” he said with a grin. She followed his example and got out of bed, pulling her dressing gown from her bag and sliding her arms into it and tying the belt. After brushing her teeth, she went downstairs to make coffee for Harry and put the kettle on for her own tea.

She could hear James talking to Harry as they came down the stairs, his little feet taking them one at a time.

“Daddy, dat Pans kitty. Why Pans kitty here?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Harry told his son as they entered the kitchen. She turned from the stove to face them.

“Good morning, James.”

“Pans!” He ran the last few steps into the room and flung himself at her. She scooped him up in her arms and snuggled him close. His little body was still warm from sleep. Part of her was a little disappointed he called her Pans, not mama like he had the night before. But it would come, she knew. He wrapped his chubby arms around her neck. “Why your kitty here?”

“Versace and I are going to stay with you and your dad for a little while. Is that okay with you?” She asked him, shifting him to her hip and turning off the kettle as it came to boil.

“Yes!” He clapped his hands together with glee.

As for Harry, he couldn’t deny that waking up next to Pansy made him happier than he’d ever been since Ginny died. The first few days she was there the three of them had breakfast together and she went with him to take James to The Burrow. If Molly was surprised to see Pansy doing this, she didn’t let on. Then Harry saw her to her shop before going on to the Ministry for the day. At the end of the day, it went in reverse. Mid week, she surprised him by getting James from Molly and Arthur when her day was done and taking him home to get dinner started. She had watched and helped Harry cook enough the last few months she was able to manage a simple meal. Coming home to her and James that day just reinforced to Harry he wanted her there permanently and he resolved to take steps to that end.

After his game of golf with his former classmates on Friday, he went to Gringotts. The ring he’d given Ginny when they got engaged was his mothers. His parents married young. He and Ginny married young and it was appropriate. It bespoke of innocence and was fitting for a younger bride. Now, he wanted to put a ring on Pansy’s finger. But they weren’t innocent, lovestruck teenagers. The old, Pureblood Pansy he knew in school probably would have expected to be handed a large, flashy, single-stoned engagement ring. The Pansy he’d come to know and love wasn’t like that. Harry wanted something elegant and beautiful. Like she was. He could buy something of course. He could afford anything he wanted from the most expensive jewelers in either the wizard or muggle worlds. But before he went to a store, he wanted to look in his other vault at Gringotts: the one he inherited when Sirius died. Harry had been in it only once before when he took ownership of it and spent very little time looking around. There were too many reminders of not only Sirius but the other members of the Black family he’d prefer to forget.

He pushed open the door to the vault and stepped inside, the lamps on the wall immediately lighting to illuminate the room. The space was vast and Harry could see it went back farther than the light of the sconces reached. He knew if he walked deeper, more torches would light as it sensed his presence. Looking around he had to hand it to Goblins, they took good care of their clients. The vault was organized by type of item: art, sculpture, large silver pieces, furniture and more. But the section he was seeking was immediately to his right. A large, ornate, free standing wooden jewelry box. The first drawer he opened contained a collection of brooches. The second, several sparkling tiaras. He wondered idly if Andromeda or Mrs. Malfoy had worn one of them when they got married. The third drawer he opened contained what he sought: rings. There were several diamond solitaires, which he didn’t give a second glance. The drawer also contained rings with colored stones and he looked at those more closely until one caught his eye. Reaching in, he lifted it out and held it between his thumb and forefinger. Set in a band of what he assumed was Goblin silver, were alternating dark blue sapphires and diamonds all the way around the band. Like Pansy’s dress for Ron and Lavender’s wedding, it reminded him of the night sky and the stars the night he took her up on the broom. It was perfect. Tucking it in his pocket, he left the vault, the giant door closing silently behind him.

By the time he got home, James had been fed and was ready for bed. When Harry came through the front door, James and Pansy, with Versace beside, were sat on the couch reading a storybook, the boy pointing out things on the pages to the cat.

“Daddy!” He cried and slid off the cushion to run and be picked up.

“Hey, James. How’re you? Good day today?” Harry carried him back to the couch and bent to kiss Pansy before sitting down with the boy on his lap

“Yes. I see’d big white birds. Big, big birds.” He held out his small hands to demonstrate the size of the peacock's tail feathers. Harry looked at Pansy for translation.

“I took him with me to to Malfoy Manor to visit Narcissa,” she supplied. “He saw the peacocks.”

“Peacocks,” echoed James. “Big birds.”

“Yes, they are big birds,” Harry agreed.

“Auntie ‘Mione there too. She sad.” James said solemnly.

Pansy met Harry’s eyes and nodded briefly. Then she said, “Okay, young man, I said you could wait up for Daddy, but now it’s time for bed.”

“No.” James crossed his arms on his chest.

“Yes,” she countered, tickling his sides gently until he giggled.

“You heard your mama. It’s bedtime,” said Harry, standing up with the toddler in his arms.

He didn’t realize what he’d said; the word just slipped out. Probably because of the ring burning a hole in his pocket and his plans for talking to her as soon as James was in bed. Pansy did, however, and stared at him for a moment still sat on the couch as father and son started for the stairs. Then she stood to follow. They got him tucked in with Versace curled at his feet, and left the room.

“Are you hungry?” she asked as they returned to the main floor of the house. Harry shook his head. “Tea then? I’m going to make a cup.”

“Sure. But in a minute.” He took Pansy’s hand and pulled her to sit beside him again on the couch. His heart was pounding. He hadn’t been this nervous since he stood outside the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch with Oliver Wood before his first game.

“Pans, I’m so glad you came back last weekend.”

“Me too.” She reached out with the hand he wasn’t holding and touched his cheek. He turned his head to kiss it, his beard tickling her palm.

“Merlin, I love you.”

“I love you, too, Harry.” She leaned in to kiss him, but his free hand cupped her face, halting her.

“Pansy, listen,” he said, looking into her indigo eyes. “This last week, waking up next to you every morning; falling asleep next to you every night and being with you all the time in between has been better than I ever imagined and I don’t want it to end. I don’t know if you’ve thought about it, but I have and want you to stay here with James and me. Not just for another week or a month. I want you here forever.

“Wait, I’m not finished,” he continued when she opened her mouth. “We don’t have to get married yet if you think it’s too soon, but I don’t need someone to cast a binding spell over us to know that you’re my wife. In my heart you’ve been my wife since the first night we made love. What? Why are you crying?” he asked anxiously, dropping his hand when he saw her eyes fill with tears. “I’ve gone and buggered this up, haven’t I? Too much too soon.”

Pansy laughed and dashed them away with her hand. “No, you prat! These are happy tears!”

She moved again to kiss him and this time he didn’t stop her. When she pulled back, she said, “I feel the same way, but I didn’t know how to go about telling you.” She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling. “I thought maybe if I started moving my things in a little at a time you wouldn’t notice.”

They laughed together, then he grew serious again and reached into the pocket of his trousers and presented her with the ring he’d chosen from his vault.

“Then will you wear this and be my wife, Pansy?” he asked, his voice full of emotion. “ If you don’t like it we’ll go to a jewelers tomorrow and you can choose anything else you want.”

“Oh, Harry! It’s beautiful! It’s perfect. It reminds me of our nighttime broom ride.”

“Exactly. That’s why I chose it.” He slid it on the fourth finger of her left hand and it magically adjusted to fit perfectly. Then he lifted her hand and kissed it and Pansy felt magic vibrate up her arm and through her whole body. “Think there’s any stars out tonight?”

“Let’s go see,” she replied.

A short time later they were gliding away from the house with Fiona in her place at James’ window, she and Versace eyeing each other warily, while the toddler slept. This time Pansy was more relaxed and leaned back against Harry’s chest once they were aloft, resting her hands on his muscular thighs, as he curled one arm around her waist. Again this time, he took them high enough and far enough into the field that there was no artificial light to distract from the beauty of the stars. Harry couldn’t resist nosing her hair away from her neck and pressing his lips to the skin there. She gave a little sigh and tilted her head to allow him better access. As his lips continued to caress the sensitive skin of her neck, Pansy whimpered and her hands kneaded the muscles of his thighs in response. The sounds she made and her touch on his legs were causing him to become aroused. It made it a little uncomfortable to sit on the broom but Harry wasn’t ready to return to the ground yet. The hand around her waist moved up to to undo a few buttons of her sundress and slipped inside to caress the tops of her breasts. When he ran a finger under the lacy top edge of her bra, a scant touch away from her nipple, she gasped and clutched at his thighs, her head lolling back against his shoulder.

“Take us home,” she whispered. He pressed another kiss to her neck and swiftly returned them to the yard and let the broom fall to the grass as he turned her in his arms to capture his lips with hers. Pansy took a step toward the lounger that was in the yard, pulling Harry with her.

“Out here?” he asked, as she worked to unbutton his shirt, her fingers fumbling in her haste.

“Yes. Under the stars,” she replied, finally getting the last one open and pushing his shirt from his shoulders. Then she reached for the rest of the buttons on her dress.

“Let me, then, love,” Harry told her.

He made swift work of the row of buttons that ran the whole way down the front of her dress and she let it fall to the ground. Gazing at the beautiful witch standing before him under the light of the moon, Harry was grateful for the high foliage that made his backyard private. They finished undressing each other between kisses and Pansy gave Harry a little push toward the lounger.

“Sit,” she said with a smile.

He did and she knelt before him, using her hands and mouth on him until he pulled her up and onto his lap, for a slow joining of their bodies. When he was completely sheathed within her, they both realized it felt differently than all the previous times they’d made love and not because of the position. There was no condom barrier separating their flesh. Pansy’s mouth made a small ‘o’ of surprise at the sensation. It was a different physical one, but she could feel a magical one as well. Her mother was right, lovemaking was a joining of magic between two people as well as their bodies. Even as thin as the condom was, it had prevented her from feeling what she was feeling right now. It seemed like every cell in her body was tingling with magic, and she knew Harry felt it too. His fingers were tight on her hips and his green eyes were bright as they locked onto hers. Only the owl in the window above saw the golden cords magically appear and wind around the bodies of the two lovers.

“Pansy,” he breathed.

“I know,” she whispered.

Then she reached out and removed his glasses, dropping them to the grass beside them, before placing her hands on either side of his face and kissing him. Gently, little sipping kisses on his mouth, ghosting her tongue across his lips, until he groaned and thrust his hips up ever so slightly. She gasped against his mouth at the sensation, and planting her feet firmly in the grass, raised and lowered herself on him, eliciting sounds of pleasure from both of them.

“Sweet Merlin, do that again,” Harry demanded, burying his face between her breasts, before kissing and suckling each one in turn, making her cry out. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and did as he requested, repeating the motion again and again as they developed a loving rhythm that before long had them panting each other’s names as they found release together.

Pansy collapsed against his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. She shivered as the sweat on her body cooled in the night air. Harry summoned a blanket from the house and draped it around her, giving her a kiss. Then he stood, holding her firmly and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He easily carried her into the house and upstairs to the bathroom.

“Fancy a bath, my love? It’s not the tub in the prefect’s bathroom, but it’s big enough for two,” he told her, wandlessly turning on the taps.

Both the Malfoy and Potter households were awakened the next morning by the arrival of small owls bearing parchments tied with pale blue ribbons. Harry knew immediately what it was, having sent the same things from the owlery at St. Mungo’s himself, almost three years ago. Once unrolled, small blue balloons flew out.

“Luna’s had the baby?” Pansy guessed.

She looked about for her nightgown then remembered she hadn’t gone to bed with one on at all. After their bath, which included another round of lovemaking, Harry gently dried her and carried her to bed where they lay and talked a long while about their thoughts for the future before making love a third time and then falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Sliding out of bed, she found her dressing gown and joined Harry to look at the announcement.

“Maurizio Zabini,” she said. “Interesting name.”

At Draco and Hermione’s flat they were having a similar conversation.

“That’s a lot of Z’s in a row,” said Draco. “What was Blaise thinking?  
  
“At least they didn’t name him after her father,” replied Hermione.  “Imagine, Xenophilius Zabini.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for following along in this story with me. Please let me know what you think. If you follow me on tumblr I will share a picture of Pansy's ring there since I've yet to figure out how to put a link in here! 
> 
> Also at shout out to my beta theoofoof for letting me bounce ideas off of her and answering my British questions.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Pansy discover something magical has happened and the friends meet Luna and Blaise's new son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my Mother's Day gift to you all! Please let me know what you think. Can't lie, I gave myself goosebumps a couple times writing this.
> 
> Thanks, JKR for creating such wonderful characters and such a magical world for me to play in!

Narcissa Malfoy convinced her daughter-in-law to help her with the charity ball, telling her she needed her assistance; that she wasn’t as young as she used to be. Hermione agreed, knowing it was a falsehood and that her mother-in-law was trying to keep her mind off of her fertility problems. This was true, but Narcissa also thought if Hermione got to know some of the children at the orphanage, perhaps she and Draco would consider adoption. It wasn’t something often done in the wizarding world. Most times if a child was orphaned and didn’t have relatives to take them in like Harry or Teddy had, they lived at the orphanage until they were old enough to attend school; and then boarded there until their education was completed. At first, Hermione participated in the planning half-heartedly, but then when she realized the orphanage was in dire need of books and toys, that became her focus and she worked on a way to raise money solely for those things.

“Hermione, what are you doing here?” Harry asked as she stepped out of his floo a week after Blaise and Luna’s son was born.

“Auntie ‘Mione!” cried James, abandoning his train to give her a hug. After greeting her godson, Hermione turned back to Harry, who had come from the kitchen where he was washing the breakfast dishes.

“You said I could come dig around in your attic for things to sell at the Jumble Sale to benefit the orphanage. Or have you forgotten?”

“Actually I had, but help yourself. With Pansy moving her things in I feel like we need a bigger house. I just put some of James’ baby things up there, though so don’t take any of those. But there’s probably a bunch of Hogwarts junk you can have and some things the previous owner’s left behind.”

“Ooh, yes, I can have you autograph them. Harry Potter, the Chosen One. People will snap that up!” she teased. He rolled his eyes and turned back to the kitchen. 

“What’s this about Pansy’s things?” asked Pansy, coming down from the upstairs where she’d been changing bed linens, her arms full of ones to be washed. Saturday had become their house cleaning day. At least in the mornings. Afternoons saw them outside in the yard while James played or taking him to the park after lunch.

“Harry’s just saying you have too many,” Hermione laughed.

Pansy joined in and said, “I’m not the one with all the Quidditch trophies collecting dust. Take some of those, Hermione and I’ll have room for my sewing machine and dress mannequin in the study. Let me put these in the washer then, and I’ll join you. I haven’t explored the attic yet.”

She disappeared into the kitchen to the alcove where the washer and dryer were and Hermione heard the sound of the door opening. Then,  “Harry! I thought you were going to switch this? The towels are still in the washer.”

“Sorry, Pans. I think that was when James spilled his juice.” came the reply.

_ They sound like an old married couple _ , thought Hermione fondly.

The attic of the house in Godric’s Hollow was actually a third floor with a narrow set of stairs leading up to it that turned at a 45-degree angle halfway up and always reminded Harry of the moving staircases at Hogwarts. It was forecast to be a warm day for the beginning of July and the attic already felt ten degrees warmer than the floors below. Hermione was glad she’d come in the morning. Pansy twisted her hair up onto her head as they reached the top.

“Whew! Let’s open the windows!” she said and waved her wand at the windows at either end of the room, before sticking it back into her hair. They flew open, letting in a cooling breeze. “That’s better. Now, what are you looking for?”

“The morning before the ball for the orphanage, we’re going to have a Jumble Sale,” Hermione said. “It’s a Muggle thing where you put out things you don’t need or use or want any more and other people buy them. Items are being donated and all the proceeds will go to the orphanage. Specifically for books and toys.”

“Oh. So something like this?” Pansy held up a jumper that clearly was one Molly Weasley had made for Harry, as it had an H on the front. But it was about three sizes too small for him now.

“Exactly. Let’s put things to go to the sale over here.” Hermione cleaned a spot on the old wooden floor free of dust and Pansy put the old jumper there, followed by another, also clearly too small. Hermione found the set of dress robes Harry wore to the Yule Ball their fourth year and an old set of Quidditch robes and added them to the jumpers. 

The two witches worked in silence for a while. Pansy discovered the box of James’ infant things and held up a tiny knitted cardigan and matching hat. “Hermione look!”

“I remember when Jamie wore those,” she said with a smile.

The curly haired witch moved aside a large mirror and saw the back of an equally large frame behind it. Turning it around, she was surprised to find it was the family parchment she had given Harry and Ginny when they were married. She’d had it made with their names centered about a quarter way down from the top, with his and her parents’ names above. The space below was empty to be filled in with children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. It was charmed to magically add names as their family grew. When James was born, his name automatically appeared. It had hung on the wall in the main room but Hermione noticed it disappeared after Ginny died. As she gently wiped the dust from the glass it revealed the year of Ginny’s death had been added under her name.

“Pansy!” Hermione exclaimed, almost dropping the frame.

“What? Did you see a mouse? I’ll put Versace up here for a night. He’ll take care of them.”

“No! When did you and Harry get married? And why didn’t you tell us?” 

“Married? Oh, the ring. He just gave it to me last weekend. But we aren’t married,” she told her. “Not yet, anyway.” Pansy blushed a little, twisting the ring on her finger.

“According to this you are!” Hermione declared hotly, turning the frame around. Pansy’s name was now magically inked on the other side of Harry’s. “It’s charmed to add spouse’s names once the binding spell is cast.”

Pansy stared at her name on the parchment in disbelief.

“What are you hens on about?” Harry’s voice preceded him appearing at one of the windows that looked into the backyard, riding a broom with James seated in front of him. “We could hear Hermione all the way down in the yard.”

“Hi!” said James. “Me and Daddy flying!”

“Yes, you are. You’re such a big boy,” Hermione told him with a smile. Then she turned a frown to her godson’s father.

“Harry Potter, Pansy says you two didn’t get married, but this says otherwise!” She walked closer to the window, turned the framed parchment so he could see it where he hovered outside and jabbed her finger at Pansy’s name. 

Harry’s eyes went wide and for one of the first times since he learned to ride a broom, lost control for a split second and dropped from view. James’ shrieked with delight, thinking the fast descent was deliberate.

“Harry!” both witches shouted and lunged for the window. By the time they looked out he had regained control and landed in the grass. Lifting his son to the ground and giving him instruction to go play in the sand, he then lifted his hand to the window.

“Accio parchment!” 

The large frame flew from Hermione’s hands and went out the window. She and Pansy turned and raced to the stairs to join him outside. When they reached the backyard, he was sitting on the lounger, the frame stood on his knees, holding it with one hand. The other was tracing Pansy’s name on the glass.

“Harry, you know how this works,” started Hermione. “It magically adds the name of a spouse once the binding spell is cast.”

“I’m well aware, Hermione,” he said a little sharply. Harry was gobsmacked. How had this happened? 

Then he turned his eyes to the other witch who had sat beside him and was taking a closer look at the parchment. Whenever they were near each other lately, he could feel their magic vibrating back and forth. It was almost an audible humming to him as the forces connected and communicated. The last time he felt this was the first few weeks after he and Ginny were married. Back then they’d been together all the time, having gone away on a honeymoon and it was omnipresent. This time because he and Pansy went their separate ways during the day he only noticed it when they were back together in the house and hadn’t given it much thought until now, honestly having chalked it up to physical attraction. Until he saw Pansy’s name on the parchment. Clearly something magical had happened.

“Pans, do you remember anything…..odd….happening recently? In the last week or so? Has your magic felt different?”

She stood and took a few steps away from him focusing on her magic; something she hadn’t really done since she was a child and learning to control it.  As she did, Pansy realized when she was near him, she could feel almost a tingling sensation on her skin that grew fainter as she stepped away from him. Turning back to face him, she took a step closer and it increased. Another step closer and it was greater still. She looked at him where he sat on the lounger and was suddenly reminded of the night he gave her the ring and they’d made love on that very chair. That was when the tingling began, but she’d attributed it to the act of intimacy at the time.

“Harry. Last Friday.” Pansy held out her hand. “Remember what you said to me before you gave me this?”

“I said, ‘I don’t need someone to cast a binding spell over us to know that you’re my wife.’”

“And I said I felt the same way,” Pansy replied, moving to stand in front of him.

“Oh, Harry,” said Hermione with an awe of magic she hadn’t felt since she was a first year. “I think you cast the spell on yourselves.”

“I think you’re right Hermione.” He stood up and took Pansy’s hands. “I guess we’re married, love. Are you okay with that?”

“I don’t think it would have happened if I wasn’t,” she said sincerely, looking into his green eyes. “I love you, Harry.”

“I love you, Pansy.” He pulled into his arms and kissed her.

“Ahem,” said Hermione, after a moment.

“Oh, please. I’ve walked into far worse at your flat and you know it,” Harry retorted as Pansy laughed. “Go play in the sand with James if you don’t want to watch.”  He kissed Pansy again.

That afternoon, instead of taking James to the park after his nap, they went to visit Luna and Blaise to meet their son, meeting Hermione and Draco there.

“He’s beautiful, Luna,” Pansy crooned, looking at him in the bassinet that stood in the living room of their house where the former schoolmates were gathered. Little Maurizio was sleeping soundly, unaware of his audience. James placed his hands on the edge and tried to stand on tiptoe to see inside. 

“Me see baby,” he said. 

“You can pick him up if you want,” Luna told her.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Pansy hesitated. “I’ve never held a baby before.”

“It’s easy, love.” Harry skillfully scooped up the infant and deposited him in her arms. “Just keep your arm under his head, like that.”

“Me see baby.” James tugged at her skirt, so she sat down in a chair which actually made her feel less like she might drop the infant if he stirred. So far, he had continued to sleep, even after being picked up and moved around. The toddler reached out a hand to touch him.

“Hold up, James,” said Harry, pulling out his wand and disinfecting the boy’s hands. “Okay, now you can touch. Very gently.”

James moved his hand slowly and touched the baby’s hand where the blanket had come away. 

“Soft,” he whispered fascinated.

Pansy gazed at the baby, equally fascinated with Maurizio. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and blinked at her a few times, reminding her of Versace. “He’s awake. Oh, his eyes are blue,” she said.

“Most babies eyes are blue at first,” Hermione supplied. She thought it would be hard for her to see the baby and Luna but it seemed the longer she was around them, the happier she became. “May I hold him, Luna?”

“Of course,” Luna said. “You all need the practice, because you know what they say about when a baby is born.”

Harry switched the swaddled baby from Pansy’s arms to Hermione’s. As soon as her arms were empty, James climbed up in Pansy’s lap and snuggled against her. She wondered if he had been a little jealous of her holding the baby. The last baby Hermione held was James and she had forgotten how warm they were and how sweet they smelled. Draco moved to sit beside her and put an arm around her. 

“Okay, love?” he murmured in her ear. He was concerned, as she had been, that seeing the baby might make her unhappy. She nodded, smiling happily. 

“What saying is that?” Pansy asked. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. They knew Pansy hadn’t been friends with Luna long enough to know there was likely going to a nonsensical theory behind her statement. 

“They say that whenever a baby is born another one is conceived at the same time,” Luna told them. 

“Oh love, I think that’s just the potions they gave you that night talking,” Blaise laughed. 

The two couples exchanged glances. Each one held concern, but of different kinds. Harry and Pansy were reminded of their lack of contraception use a week ago and Draco and Hermione’s was knowing the odds of their coupling on the floor resulting in a baby were almost nil. The awkward moment was broken by Maurizio letting out a wail.

“I think someone’s hungry,” Luna said, beginning to unbutton her shirt. 

At that, Harry and Draco stood, knowing the new mother would have no qualms about baring her breasts in front of them and not wanting to be present for that. Draco helped Hermione to her feet so she could hand over the infant to be fed. Maurizio was working up a fury, tiny fists clenched and waving as he cried.

“Thank you for letting us visit, Luna,” said Hermione. “He’s beautiful.” She kissed the baby’s downy head and gave him to her. The moment he smelled his mother, his cries ended.

“Congratulations, mate.” Draco clapped Blaise on the shoulder. “You did good.”

“Yes, congratulations,” said Pansy. 

“Bye, baby,” said James, giving a wave.

That night after she had tucked James into bed, Pansy went downstairs to find Harry looking at the family parchment he’d rehung in the main room. She walked up beside him and put her arms around his waist, pressing herself into his side as he put arm around her in return and kissed her temple.

“Can I ask you something, Harry?” she said quietly. She sounded so serious that he led her to the couch where they sat down and he took her hands in his. They were cold with nervousness.

“Love, you can ask me anything. What’s bothering you?”

“Do you think there’s anything to what Luna said today? About a baby being conceived when one is born?”

“Pansy, Luna has a lot of crazy ideas. I stopped paying attention to them when she told me I had wrackspurts in my head,” Harry laughed.

“But…..we didn’t use any protection that night. The night you gave me my ring and we apparently cast the spell.” She looked at him and worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Are you afraid you might be pregnant?” The possibility that might have happened had crossed his mind as well, but it didn’t worry him. In fact, the thought of having another child -- one with Pansy -- excited him. Harry loved having a family and being a dad.

“A little. Would you be upset if I was?” she looked at him with concern.

“Not at all. Pansy. I want nothing more than to have a baby with you. We’ve already established that we’re married in our hearts and somehow made it magically binding. The only thing left to do is register with the Ministry. So if you happen to have gotten pregnant the other night -- not because of some witches’ tale that Luna believes in -- but because we had sex without any kind of protection, then I would be very happy. If you didn’t, then you will eventually, and I’ll still be happy. But would you be upset if you were?”

“Upset, no. Scared spitless, yes,” she admitted with a nervous laugh. “I’m rubbish with babies.”

“No you’re not, love.” He pulled her close and she rested her head on his chest, listening to the calm, even beat of his heart. “Look how good you’ve become with James. He loves you. You will be a great mom. We’ll just have to wait and see. It will be all right either way.”

Her concerns alleviated, Pansy tipped her head up to kiss him, then said, “Magic really is amazing sometimes, isn’t it?” she asked, looking over toward the parchment on the wall.

“I’ve experienced a lot of different things since I was eleven, but this really is a first. Casting the binding spell on ourselves. I wonder if it’s ever happened before?” Harry wondered. 

“I don’t know. Is there anyone we could ask?”

“Molly or Arthur, but that would be a little awkward,” he chuckled. “I could ask Andromeda. I haven’t seen Teddy since the wedding anyway. I’m due a visit.”

“Why don’t you take James over tomorrow? He loves to play with Teddy.” 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry talks to Andromeda about the binding spell and he and Pansy learn their news isn't a private as they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, readers! There's been some serious brainstorming going on and thanks to my sister, daughters and son's gf; as well as the indispensible theoofoof, the next few chapters should be posted in short succession as long as I have time to pull all the loose ends together.
> 
> And since I haven't mentioned it recently, I feel compelled to remind you that these wonderful characters belong not to me, but to JKR. I'm grateful she created them so I can play with them!

Harry and Andromeda Tonks sat under a tree in her backyard drinking lemonade and watching Teddy and James wade in a small swimming pool. She turned a knowing gaze on her grandson’s godfather.

“All right, Harry, you’ve had a look on your face since you arrived. What’s on your mind?”

He shook his head and smiled. “You’re just like Tonks. Never could fool her, ether. It’s not anything serious, just a question about magic, actually.”

“Oh?” The witch’s curiosity was piqued. This wizard sitting beside her had seen far more magic in his short life than she in plus twice the time. She wondered what he could be thinking she would know that he didn’t.

Harry took a drink of his lemonade.

“Have you ever heard of a marriage binding spell casting itself? Or two people casting it on themselves?”

“Casting itself? How do you mean?”

Harry recounted the tale of the conversation he and Pansy had the night he gave her the ring and asked her to be his wife and what had appeared on the parchment, omitting the more intimate details.

“So the parchment was designed for a spouse’s name to appear once the binding spell was cast?” Andromeda asked. Harry nodded.

“Yes.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that happening before, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Nothing is with magic. You of all people should know that. Sometimes you just have to accept it on faith.”

“Yes,” Harry admitted. “I guess we need to go register with the Ministry, then. Make it completely official.”

“Harry, it will already be on file if the binding spell was truly cast,” Andromeda told him. “Didn’t you know that from when you and Ginny were married?”

Harry’s green eyes were wide. “No. The marriage certificate was there for us to sign the day we got married and I thought Arthur brought it from the Ministry and had already filled it in for us. Because we were young. I thought otherwise you went to the Marriage Bureau and filled it out after.”

Teddy’s grandmother shook her head. “They are magically completed. Like your parchment. That’s how the Ministry tracked witches and wizards who married secretly years ago to try and get out of arranged marriages. They tried to change it, but it’s such old magic, it couldn’t be. Nowadays there isn’t someone sitting there watching for certificates to complete themselves, but it still happens. Go and see if there’s one for you and Pansy. That will give you the answer.”

“I will. First thing tomorrow,” Harry told her. “Thanks. See, I knew you would know.” He grinned.

Andromeda wasn’t the only one who knew. When Harry and Pansy walked into the Ministry the next morning, it seemed everyone was smiling at them. When they finally got to the Department of Magical Marriage Registration, the young witch behind the counter beamed broadly at them.

“Congratulations on your marriage, Auror and Mrs. Potter!”

“Thank you, um,”

“Ophelia,” the witch supplied.

“Thank you, Ophelia,” Harry repeated. “But can you tell me how you know we got married?”

“Certainly!” Ophelia turned and indicated behind her where about a dozen parchments floated in the air. “Whenever a couple is married and the binding spell is cast, the certificate appears here. Once it’s signed, we give them a copy and file the other one away.”

Harry and Pansy signed the certificate and watched as Ophelia magically duplicated it and handed them their copy. He had meetings on his schedule for the day and Pansy was going to return to her apartment to pack up some more of her things. She kissed him goodbye and headed for the exit. Two steps outside the Ministry and she was blinded by the flash of a magical camera.

“Mrs. Potter! Mrs. Potter!” said an unfamiliar voice. “When did you and the Chosen One decide to get married? Why was it a secret wedding? Are you pregnant? What do the Weasley’s think?”

Blinking the spots from her eyes, she looked toward the person speaking. It was a witch who looked like a young version of Rita Skeeter, standing beside a bored looking wizard holding the camera.

“Excuse me?”

The witch dug in the handbag that hung from her shoulder and produced an identical copy of the parchment that was rolled up in Pansy’s bag.

“This is a copy of your marriage certificate isn’t it? It says you and Auror Potter were married……” she looked at the date on it “......ten days ago.”

Pansy didn’t know what to say. “I, uh ---” She needed to get back to Harry. He would know how to handle this. “Excuse me.”

She turned and fled back into the Ministry and hurried to his office. His door was closed.

“Merlin’s saggy left --” she muttered under her breath and leaned against the wall.

“Looking for Harry, are you Pansy?” She turned and saw Percy Weasley coming down the hallway and she mentally swore again. Of all the Weasley’s to encounter!

“Hello, Percy.” She summoned her Pureblood training and managed a polite smile. “He’s in a meeting. I’ll just wait until he’s finished.”

“I hear congratulations are in order,” he said when he reached her side.

“Really?” Pansy decided to pretend she didn’t know what he meant. “How so?”

“Word around the Ministry is that you and Harry got married.”

As she was struggling for a reply, Harry’s door opened and two young Aurors came out and went down the hall.

“Pansy! I thought I heard your voice out here. I thought you were going home to --” then he caught sight of Percy standing there as well. “Hello, Percy.”

“Harry, I was just congratulating Pansy on your nuptials,” his former brother-in-law said, holding out his hand.

“Oh. Thanks, Perce,” replied Harry, dutifully shaking it. “It’s amazing how fast word gets around in here, isn’t it?”

“It’s almost magical,” the redhead said with a laugh that almost sounded like a cackle, Pansy thought. Then, “I must be off. Duty calls.” He strode away with an air of importance, his robes swirling about his legs.

“How did he know?” Harry wondered once Percy was out of earshot.

“I’ve got a better question for you,” Pansy said, leading him back into his office. She closed the door. “How does the press know? I just had my picture taken and was accosted by a reporter from The Daily Prophet, I assume.”

“What? Where?”

“The moment I walked out of the Ministry. It was like they were waiting for me! And she had a copy of our marriage certificate!” Pansy dug into her handbag and pulled out the rolled parchment. “It looked just like this!”

“How is that possible?” Harry sat down at his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, the action pushing his glasses up. The only person who works in the Department of Magical Marriage Registration is -- “

“Ophelia!” The both said at the same time.

Harry adjusted his glasses, his green eyes narrowing behind them. She could almost see his body shift into Auror mode. Standing purposefully from his chair he looked at Pansy.

“Stay here. I’m going to take care of this.”

“Harry,” she reached for his hand, “we’re a team now. I’m coming with you.”

“Right you are, love,” he agreed, giving her a brief kiss. “Let’s go get this sorted.”

He summoned the two young Auror’s Pansy had seen leaving his office and instructed them to go outside and detain the reporter and photographer if they were still there. Then they walked hand in hand back to the Department of Magical Marriage Registration. Ophelia beamed at them just as she had the first time they entered the office.

“Auror and Mrs. Potter! Is there something else I can do for you?”

Harry got right to the point. “You can tell us why you told The Daily Prophet we’re married.”

The smile faded from her face.

“Ophelia,” said Pansy, “do you understand what an invasion of our privacy that is? We hadn’t even told our families yet and the moment I stepped outside I had a reporter and photographer in my face.”

“I’m s-sorry,” the witch stammered. “She paid me to watch for yours to appear.”

“Who paid you? And how long have you been watching?” Harry demanded.

“Rita Skeeter.” Ophelia’s lip trembled and Pansy felt a little sorry for the young witch. “She’s the Society Editor.”

Harry’s wand hand twitched and he muttered, “I swear I’m going to put her back in a jar.”

“What?” Pansy said quietly.

“Later.” Harry put his palms on the counter that separated them from the witch and leaned toward her, his voice serious and quiet. “For. How. Long?”

“Since you and Miss Parkinson — I mean Mrs. Potter were first seen in Diagon Alley together.”

“That was in February!” Pansy exclaimed.

“It must have been Skeeter who assigned the article that ran back then,” Harry said. “I didn’t know she was still with the paper since I haven’t seen a byline in years. Now she’s just scheming behind the scenes.”

Since no laws had actually been broken, Harry gave Ophelia a stern warning and set up a spell to prevent marriage certificates from being duplicated more than once. He also warned the reporter and photographer that he would charge them with stalking if they were caught lying in wait for Pansy, James or him. In return, he told the reporter he would owl a statement regarding their marriage that could be printed in the paper.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” He said with a sigh when the two of them were back in his office.

“We have to break the news to Molly and Arthur,” replied Pansy. “Do you think they’ll be upset?”

“I hope not but I don’t know. They might be surprised that we did it without having a wedding.” Then a thought occurred to him. “Pansy, we didn’t have a wedding!”

“And?”

“Well, I had a wedding once already, but you never have. Do you want to have a wedding?”

“Harry, I was raised to expect I would have a huge, lavish wedding with crowds of people I barely knew in attendance,” Pansy told him. She took his hands in hers and looked into his green eyes. I don’t want — I never wanted that with you. Maybe that’s another reason why we were able to cast the spell on ourselves.”

“As long as you’re sure,” he kissed her. “I don’t want you to feel like you missed out.”

“I’m not missing out on anything as long as I’m with you,” she assured him.

Harry and Pansy worked together to draft a statement for the newspaper and sent it out with one of the Ministry owls. They decided they would talk to Molly and Arthur when they picked James up after work. Then Pansy set out again for her apartment. She spent the day packing up her apartment into transfigured boxes. Late in the day, tired and sweaty, she took a quick shower and changed clothes before apparating to the The Burrow where Harry was waiting for her. He took in her different clothes and damp hair.

“All packed?” he asked putting his arms around her and giving her a kiss.

“Just about. I own more stuff than I realized.” Pansy replied after returning the kiss.

Harry kept one arm around her as they walked toward the door. “Ready to do this, Mrs. Potter?”

She smiled, thinking she liked how that sounded. “As ready as I’m going to be, Mr. Potter.”

Harry knocked on the door. Molly opened it, a surprised look on her face when she saw it was them.

“Harry! Pansy! You don’t have to knock,” she told them with a cluck of her tongue.

“After you hear what I have to tell you, you may not say that anymore, Molly,” said Harry. “Can we talk to you and Arthur?”

The Weasley matriarch frowned at her son-in-law, wondering what he had to tell her that could make him think that, but led them into the other room where Arthur sat with James on his lap, reading a book.

“Daddy! Mama!” he cried, seeing the couple.

The toddler’s use of mama instead of Pansy’s name had increased recently. The first time Molly heard him say it, she’d felt a pang, never having heard him say it to Ginny. But as she continued to see the two interact and saw the love the witch had for him, she couldn’t begrudge his use of the term, knowing that eventually Harry and Pansy were going to marry. Pansy scooped up the boy and received his hug, taking the picture book that he brought with him from Arthur’s lap, grateful for the minor distraction while Harry broached the subject of their unexpected marriage. She took a seat next to Harry on a small sofa, holding James on her lap as he pointed out animals in the book to her. Arthur looked at Harry, thinking he looked as nervous as he had when he came to ask their permission to marry Ginny.

“Harry, what is it you want to tell us? Surely it can’t be as bad as the look on your face makes it seem,” he said kindly.

The younger wizard straightened his shoulders. _Just do it, Potter._ He drew a breath and spoke. Quickly so he couldn’t be interrupted and not making eye contact with either Weasley; looking at a spot on the flowered upholstery of the chair where Arthur sat.

“Pansy and I are married. I gave her a ring and asked her to be my wife. She said yes and somehow we cast the binding spell on ourselves. We signed the marriage certificate this morning at the ministry where the witch who works in the Department of Magical Marriage Registration has been being paid by Rita Skeeter since February to watch for our certificate and she gave a copy to a reporter who was waiting for Pansy outside the ministry. So we told them we’d issue a statement they could publish in tomorrow’s paper and we wanted to tell you today before you saw it in the paper tomorrow.”

Slightly out of breath, he drew in another before adding, “I hope you’re not upset.”

Pansy put a hand on his back and rubbed it gently. Molly and Arthur looked at each other and silently communicated in only the way that a couple married as long as they could. Then she nodded and Arthur said,

“My boy, what makes you think we’d be upset? Molly and I have seen this coming. We knew you and Pansy were going to get married.”

“You did?” Harry asked, relaxing and leaning into Pansy’s touch.

“Of course, dear. I think it was at the wedding rehearsal. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her while you were standing up there beside Ron,” Molly said with a twinkle in her eye.  “You probably didn’t hear a word that Darinda said.”

A small blush crept up Harry’s cheeks and he shook his head. He had no idea the instructions the wedding planner gave the day of the rehearsal.

“So you really cast the spell on yourselves?” asked Arthur with interest. “I’ve only heard of that happening when couples were -- oh!”

Now it was his turn to blush.

Molly stood, gave her husband a light cuff on the shoulder then looked at Pansy.

“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” she said. “Are you two planning on going to the charity ball that Narcissa is heading for the orphanage?”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Pansy begin life as a married couple, Hermione makes a friend at the orphanage and the day of the charity ball arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a little angst for Draco and Hermione but it all works out in the end. Twenty points to your House if you can figure out what photo inspired my description of Draco on the patio.

Harry and Pansy got her things moved into the house in Godric’s Hollow and began creating life as a family together with James. But in the back of Pansy’s mind she wondered if she might actually have gotten pregnant the night Maurizio was born. The day after her period was due the first month she asked Harry if he knew how to cast a pregnancy predictor spell. He did, but said he he wouldn’t do it. It was too soon, he said, asking if she hadn’t ever been late before. She had, and allowed him to talk her into waiting another month.

As July flowed into August with no sign of Pansy getting her period, Harry began to get a little curious himself and started watching for symptoms that she might be pregnant; similar to the ones Ginny had with James. But she didn’t seem to be experiencing any nausea, food aversions or excessive tiredness. If she was pregnant, Harry thought one day, she certainly wore it well. And either she knew something he didn’t or she had forgotten about it, being busy with James and her shop, which was bustling with new gown orders for orphanage ball, because she hadn’t mentioned it to him recently. In order for her to spend more time with James, they had magically enlarged the library at their house, which had served as Harry’s home office, to give her space to work at home. Now, one side of the room housed her drawing table, a sewing machine, and bolts of colorful fabric shared the shelves with books.

Hermione stopped by one day to try on the gown she’d ordered for the ball before going to the orphanage to meet with Narcissa and some orphanage officials. She stood on an elevated platform in her beaded green gown, watching James play with fabric scraps on the floor.

“Hermione, have you lost weight? I have to take this in,” said Pansy.

“Maybe a little. I’ve been busy with the ball and not been hungry,” she admitted. Draco had said the same thing to her, telling her she was getting too thin.

“Well, I’m starving. When I’m done with this, we’ll go have a slice of treacle tart,” the raven haired witch told her. “I’m still trying to perfect Molly’s recipe.”

“I have tart, Mama?” James piped up from his spot on the floor.

Hermione spun around to look at Pansy, getting poked by several pins as she did so.

“Ow! But Pans, mama? When did that happen?”

Pansy smiled. “He’s been doing it for a little while now. Sometimes he still calls me Pans. But not very often.”

“It’s sweet,” Hermione said with a wistful smile. “I loved Ginny, but you’re the only mother he’ll ever know, now.”

After helping Hermione out of her gown, the two witches and James went into the kitchen for some of Pansy’s tart. Hermione listened half heartedly to Pansy talk about her own gown and plans to redecorate their bedroom, while pushing her tart around on her plate after eating only a bite. Finally she left, saying she needed to meet Narcissa at the orphanage for a meeting about the ball and leaving Pansy wondering what was wrong with her friend. Apparating to the main entrance of orphanage, she paused and looked up at the stone facade of the building that the night of of the ball would be renamed at the behest of generous anonymous donor. Narcissa said even she didn’t know who the benefactor was, nor what the new name would be. Hermione sighed tiredly. She always seemed to be tired lately. Maybe she was depressed, she thought. Then she straightened her shoulders and pushed open the heavy door that always reminded her of Hogwarts. Immediately her ears were met with the sound of a crying infant, and her heart went out to the unhappy orphan. She was supposed to meet her mother-in-law in a sitting room reserved for prospective parents and as Hermione walked down the hall, the crying grew louder.

“Hermione, dear, I’m so glad you’ve arrived!” the well-dressed witch said when her daughter-in-law entered the room. She held a squalling infant in her arms, its face red from crying. It was small -- not more than a couple months old, and based on the blue blanket it was loosely swaddled in, Hermione guessed was a boy -- and crying inconsolably.

“Can you take him whilst I go get a bottle? I don’t even know if that’s what he wants, but I’ve tried everything else.”

Not taking no for an answer, Narcissa deposited the baby in Hermione’s arms and swept from the room, her heels clicking on the hard floor. The curly haired witch adjusted him in her arms to put him to her shoulder. She rubbed his back and made soft shushing sounds, bouncing gently in an attempt to soothe the child. Amazingly, his cries began to diminish and were only small whimpers when Narcissa returned holding a bottle of formula.

“You have a magic touch, Hermione,” she said. “No pun intended. Here, see if he wants this.”

Hermione sat down on a nearby sofa and shifted the infant around so she could offer him the bottle. He latched onto the nipple immediately and began sucking hungrily. Now quiet, she got a better look at him. His eyes were brown and the strands of hair on his small head were dark as well. He watched her with interest, more alert than she remembered James being at this age. When the bottle was half gone, she pulled it from his mouth, earning herself a wail of protest.

“Now, now, little man, you have to have a burp or all that will come back up,” she crooned, putting him back on her shoulder and patting his back until he released the trapped air in his tummy. Re-cradling him her arms, she offered the rest of the bottle. Hermione looked at Narcissa, who had been watching the interaction in silence.

“What’s his story? I don’t remember seeing one this young here before,” she asked, returning her gaze to the baby, running a gentle finger down his cheek, encouraging him to continue suckling. The bottle was almost empty and his eyes had begun to close.

Hermione had met just about every child in the orphanage since she got involved with the charity ball. She’d read stories to and pushed the older ones on the swings in the large outdoor play area. She’d helped feed and play with the younger ones; even changed nappies. They all touched her heart because they were orphaned and in need of a home, but she had never asked how any of them came to be there; had never felt a pull toward any of them until now. When Narcissa handed him to her, screaming and unhappy, she immediately wanted to soothe him. Comfort him. Every maternal instinct in her was crying out to know more about him.

“Our little one here has a tragic story,” said Narcissa, sitting beside Hermione, running a perfectly manicured hand over the baby’s head.

“His parents worked for the Ministry as foreign curse breakers. Muggle archeologists found some new Egyptian tombs and they were sent in to make sure there weren’t any curses that needed broken before they caused problems. The Minister didn’t want Lydia, his mother, to go because she was six months pregnant. But she got the okay from her healer and she and her husband were confident they’d be finished with their work before the baby was due. It took them longer than they anticipated and she went into labor. He was born without complication but they needed to stay there until both she and he could travel magically.

“The day they were scheduled to leave, there was a Muggle bombing in the area where they were living. Lydia was killed outright and Liam was injured. He managed to get him and the baby to an emergency portkey that brought them back to the Ministry. Liam was taken to St. Mungo’s but his injuries were too extensive by that point and he died. They kept the baby in the nursery there for a week to make sure he was unharmed and healthy. He’s just arrived here today. As far as the Ministry knows, neither Lydia nor Liam had any family, so he’ll be available for adoption as soon as that’s confirmed.”

Narcissa finished speaking and looked at the infant who had fallen asleep at this point. Then she looked at her daughter-in-law who was blinking away tears. Hermione handed the empty bottle to her and lifted the baby to her shoulder, burying her nose against his neck, breathing in the sweet baby smell. The older witch put a hand on her shoulder.

“Hermione, dear. We still have our meeting with the directors to finalize details for the ball.”

“Can I -- that is, um, do you think I could hold him during the meeting?” she asked. “If he wakes and fusses, I’ll take him out.”

“I’m sure that would be fine. You seem to have a calming effect on him.”

The baby slept throughout the entire meeting, waking at the very end. He didn’t fuss, however, merely lay in Hermione’s arms as if silently regarding her. After changing his nappy and giving him another bottle, she reluctantly turned him over to the witches who ran the infant ward and went home. At dinner, she told Draco about the baby and his tragic story. Over the next days as the ball grew closer, Hermione found reasons to go to the orphanage. Every time she did, she spent time holding the baby who had touched her heart. The witches told her she had a knack for calming him and teased they were going to owl her some night at 3 a.m. He had no name that anyone knew. His father died before he could tell anyone and any paperwork that might have said was destroyed in the bombing.

The week of the ball Pansy asked Molly to help her with last minute hems and alterations on some gowns. James was playing quietly in the shop while the two witches’ wands worked on multiple dresses hanging magically in the air in the large dressing room. As Pansy returned from moving a finished dress to another room, Molly looked at her closely.

“Can I fix you a potion, dear? You look a little green,” she said.

Pansy shook her head. “I’m all right,” she replied, even though she was feeling a bit queasy. “Just too much work the past week I think. I’ll rest when James takes his nap.”

But once Molly had gone and James was napping on the sofa in her office that she transfigured into a small bed, Pansy pulled out the calendar and began counting days; something she had been meaning to do. She had missed another period. And where she had been constantly hungry a few weeks ago, now the thought of most food turned her stomach; something she didn’t share with Harry, and forced bites down at meals. She could go to St. Mungo’s and visit a healer, but she knew the moment she did, word would get back to Harry. The wizarding world gossiped more than teenage witches. If she really was pregnant, she wanted to tell Harry herself. Once James woke, she told him they were going on a outing, and transfigured a chair into a pushchair, not having brought his along. Exiting her shop through the Muggle entrance, she made her way down the street to a store she suspected would sell pregnancy tests. She wasn’t sure what to look for, so she approached a middle aged looking woman wearing a name tag that read Agnes.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Do you sell mu -- er, home pregnancy test kits?”

“Certainly,” said Agnes and led the way to a display with several different choices then looked at James. “He’s two?”

“Three in a few months,” replied Pansy.

“Three years between is a nice gap,” Agnes told her. “If you have any other questions, I’ll be at the counter.”

Pansy stood and gazed at the selection before her, her mind boggled. She chose two different boxes at random and took them to the counter where Agnes rang them up.

“Having a backup is always a good idea. But if you get a positive result, don’t forget to follow up with your doctor.” The woman smiled and put the boxes in a bag, handing it to Pansy.

“I will. Thank you for your help,” the witch told her.

She hurried back to her shop with James, knowing Harry would be meeting them soon to go home. Once inside she spelled the boxes smaller and tucked them in the bottom of the bag she used to carry James’ toys and extra clothes back and forth between home and the shop.

That evening Pansy asked Harry if he would put James to bed. “I’m tired and fancy a little soak in the tub,” she added. “Tomorrow is going to be busy day with the ball and all.”

“Of course, love,” Harry told her, watching as she went down the hall to the bathroom with the tub. He was glad his wife was finally slowing down. She had been going full speed with the gown orders and taking care of James and was looking tired of late.

Inside the bathroom, Pansy turned on the taps for the tub and then pulled out the boxes she’d bought earlier in the day from under the sink. She’d put them there when bathing James while Harry made dinner. She read the instructions on one of the boxes.  _ I have to do what? _ she thought, and read them again. “Muggles really do this the hard way,” she muttered.

A short while later she had both tests sat on the sinktop while she climbed into the tub. Pansy knew the tests only took a couple minutes to register a result, but she’d told Harry she was taking a bath and she didn’t want to make a liar of herself. Leaning back in the water and closing her eyes, she placed her hands on her abdomen below her belly button, wondering if there was a baby growing inside her. Would it have Harry’s green eyes or her dark blue? Dark hair was almost a guarantee. She’d loved to have a little girl to dress in pretty clothes and hair ribbons, but it would be nice for James to have a brother as well. 

“Pansy?” Harry knocked on the door. “Are you alright in there?”

She sat up quickly in the tub, sloshing water over the side. She had dozed off, daydreaming about being pregnant and having a baby with Harry. Hearing the sound of the water and getting no reply, he spoke again, more urgently.

“Pansy! Answer me!”

“I’m okay, Harry. I just fell asleep in the tub. I’ll be right out,” she called, standing up and reaching for a towel. The rack was empty. In her haste to take the pregnancy tests, she’d forgotten to bring one in with her. “Oh, hell. Harry, are you still out there?”

“Yes.”

“I need a towel. Can you please get me one?” She heard Harry’s chuckle through the door and knew he was thinking back to the time he’d returned from his auror mission when they were first dating and needed her to get him a towel. A moment later the door opened a little and she saw his hand holding a towel. “Harry, you’ve seen me naked. You can bring it in.”

The door opened more and her husband stepped into the room. Pansy pulled the tub plug from the water as Harry admired her nude form. Then he opened the towel and gently placed it around her, giving her a lingering kiss. She returned the gesture and then grasped it and began to dry off her skin.

“You must be tired if you fell asleep in the tub,” he commented, leaning back against the sinktop. As he did, he bumped the two pregnancy tests and they clattered into the bowl. Surprised at the sound he turned around to see what caused it.    
  
“Harry, wait!” Pansy had forgotten the tests were on the counter when she told him to bring in the towel. He picked up one of the plastic kits and turned back to look at her.

“Pansy, is this -- “

“A Muggle pregnancy test. Yes. I realized today I missed another cycle and knew if I went to see a healer that you’d find out and I wanted you to hear it from me if I was pregnant, not from some wizarding gossip. So I bought two tests in a Muggle store.”

Pansy wrapped the towel around her torso, tucking the end in between her breasts.

“Did you look at the result?”

She shook her head. “I followed the instructions then got in the bath. I figured I’d look when I got out.”

A slow grin spread across his face and he held out the one in his hand for her her to see.

“Well, Mrs. Potter, according to this, Luna was right after all.”

“What?” She snatched it from him. Sure enough a plus sign was showing in the window. Pansy picked up the other test, which had the word ‘positive’ in its result window. Her eyes grew wide and she too, smiled broadly before throwing her arms around his neck. “I’m pregnant!”

“You are pregnant,” he agreed, before kissing her and carrying her into their bedroom where they celebrated the news.

The next evening, Hermione walked the perimeter of the ballroom, scanning the guests for her husband. She hadn’t seen him since their arrival at the Manor for the charity ball and they hadn’t spoken since before then. She didn’t count his terse, “Are you ready to go?” and her one word reply before she tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, feeling his muscles tense beneath his jacket, as he apparated the two of them to his childhood home. They bickered, like all married couples. In fact, they’d been bickering with each other since they were first years and once they were finally a couple, laughed at how some of their arguments as teenagers were just a twisted form of courtship, because they couldn’t admit their true feelings to themselves, let alone each other. But this. This had been a true row. The first they’d ever had. When they arrived Hermione had been immediately drawn into conversation with donors by Narcissa and he strode quickly away after greeting his mother and complimenting her gown. Draco hadn’t even mentioned hers when he saw it. Even as she made small talk, her eyes had sought his white blond head in the large room. Hermione had found it once; he was talking to Harry and Pansy. Then she lost him again.

Finally she came to the French doors that were open to a terrace that looked out over one of Narcissa prized flower gardens which were still ablaze with color, even though it was the nearing the end of August. She looked out and felt her heart leap into her throat, leaving a lump for her to swallow away. He hadn’t left. She was afraid he had gone, too angry to even stay. She could still hear his voice ringing in her ears:  _ “How could you do it without telling me? Have you given up all hope of ever having a baby of our own then?” _

It wasn’t like she hadn’t told him about the baby at the orphanage. She had. The first day she met him. The sweet little bundle that stopped crying almost the moment she took him in her arms. There was an instant connection between them. What she hadn’t mentioned was the paperwork she’d completed a few days before to be considered as adoptive parents. Hermione thought she’d have time to tell him. She didn’t realize they would send a social worker round to talk to them and see their flat so soon, let alone when she was out getting her hair done for the ball. She returned home in a good mood, having had her nails done as well, ready to enjoy the evening ahead and find out how much money the Jumble Sale had raised earlier that day. But when she opened the door, she found Draco sat at the dining table, arms crossed, looking in her direction waiting for her return. In front of him was a sheaf of parchment. But it was the look on his face that caught her attention first. It was a cross between anger and hurt; anger winning out when he opened his mouth.

“The social worker from the orphanage dropped by while you were out. She was a little surprised you weren’t here. She was also a little surprised I didn’t have a bloody clue why she had come to see us.” His voice was deadly calm and his grey eyes were cold and hard, like the steel of the bridges in London in the middle of winter.

Hermione opened her mouth but nothing came out so he went on, gaining speed and volume.

“When did you fill out these papers?” He pushed angrily at the parchment in front of him, scattering the pages across the polished wood. “Prospective adoptive parents’ names, Hermione Malfoy nee Granger and Draco Malfoy. Only one of those prospective parents knew about this! Didn’t you need my signature? But more importantly, Hermione, how could you do it without telling me? Have you given up all hope of ever having a baby of our own then?”

His voice cracked a little at the end of the sentence and he stood, knocking the chair over behind him, making her jump at the sound of it hitting the floor. Without another word, he left the room. She heard the shower go on in the guest bath and when she went into their bedroom noticed his tuxedo was missing from where she’d hung it earlier. She sighed and went about her own ablutions mechanically, feeling numb. His message was clear: no matter their disagreement, a Malfoy did not miss a social event. Especially one they were hosting.

He was leaned against the side of the mansion, one arm crossed in front of him, a Muggle cigarette in his other hand and a scowl on his face as he stared down at the flagstones. Smoking was a habit Draco acquired in the years right after the war. Better than drinking, he’d told Hermione once, in that you could keep a clear head and there was no hangover in the morning. He hadn’t done it since they were married that she could recall. 

Draco knew as soon as she looked out the door. He caught the subtle aroma of her perfume pulled toward him on the late summer breeze. Then he heard the dainty click of her heels as she stepped from the marbled floor of the ballroom to the stones of the terrace. Taking one last pull on the the cigarette, he flicked it away and vanished it before it hit the ground. He’d needed some air. He was just starting to come to grips with what Hermione had done behind his back and started to seek her out to apologize for his reaction earlier when he’d bumped into Harry and Pansy. He complimented Pansy on her dress, telling her she looked radiant, which made her blush and Harry puff out his chest a little. Then he stepped closed to Draco and quietly told him they’d learned she was pregnant the day before. For a moment, the room spun and he had to close his eyes to make it stop. Harry immediately saw the look in his eyes and regretted his boastful comment. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he said, “Your and Hermione’s time will come.” Draco simply nodded and walked away toward the closest door. Outside, he’d conjured the cigarette and magically lit it. It was either that or a bottle, but he didn’t want to get drunk and make an ass of himself at his mother’s fundraiser.

Finally raising his head, he turned to look at his wife. His heart stuttered in his chest. She was stunning in a green and silver beaded gown. Every time she wore that color he teased her she should have been a Slytherin because she wore it so well. He loved her more than his own life and only wanted her to be happy. And if adopting a baby instead of trying to have one of their own made her happy, then so be it. Draco held out his hand to her. One step and she slid her palm against his. He tugged on her arm and she tumbled into his embrace. He cradled her against him, continuing to lean against the wall and buried his face in her curls. She’d worn them down tonight, knowing he preferred her hair that way, with just a portion pulled away from her face with a jeweled clip. She rested her cheek against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“No, love. I’m the one who’s sorry,” he gently rebutted. “All I want -- all I’ve ever wanted -- is for you to be happy, Hermione. And if adopting a baby makes you happy, then we’ll adopt a baby. It doesn’t matter to me if he didn’t grow inside you, he will still be our child and loved just as much.”

Hermione lifted her head to look at her husband, tears glistening in her eyes. 

“I love you, Draco. I didn’t mean to go behind your back. I didn’t think they would move so quickly. I thought I’d have time to tell you. I’m not giving up hope of ever conceiving a child of our own, but right now he needs a mum and a dad and we can give him that.”

“Yes, we can. First thing tomorrow we’ll owl the social worker and invite her back when we’ll both be home and keep the process moving,” he told her. “Now come. If I know my mother, she won’t let the house elves serve the soup until you and I are both seated.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious benefactor who donated to the orphanage is announced at the ball; as well as its new name. Then Draco and Hermione sneak away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little shorter chapter, but full of good feels. Enjoy!
> 
> As always, the characters are JKR's, not mine.

Draco was right about his mother. She gave them a look when they entered the ballroom where tables had now appeared and people were beginning to be seated for the meal. But Narcissa wasn’t truly upset. She knew from Hermione they’d had a row at home before coming to the Manor, although her daughter-in-law declined to tell her over what. It appeared they’d made up now, which pleased her. The couple took their places at a table where Harry and Pansy and Luna and Blaise were also seated. House elves stood at the fringes of the room, trays laden with soup bowls to serve.

Narcissa Malfoy walked to the front of the room where a small dias had been conjured for the band that would play later and lifted her heavy satin skirt to ascend the stairs. Using a spell to amplify her voice, she asked for the room’s attention. After thanking everyone for coming and supporting the orphanage, she said before dinner was served the new name of the facility would be announced. A ripple of noise went around the room. The new name, as well as the generous benefactor had been a closely guarded secret, with the information in an enveloped spelled so that it couldn’t be opened until the night of the ball.

“I am sure you are all curious to know what our Wizard’s Orphanage will be called after tonight, so without further adieu, please welcome the man, who, without his courage and perseverance, many of us would not be here tonight…….Harry Potter!”

All the heads at the table where Harry sat swiveled to look at him except Draco, mouths agape. He had known, of course, because one of the Malfoy companies ran the trust for the orphanage and he’d helped with the paperwork.

“Harry!” exclaimed Pansy and Hermione in unison.

“Sorry loves, but neither one of you would have been able to keep the secret.”

He leaned over and kissed Pansy before standing and making his way to the the stage. Narcissa had invited the press of course, to maximize publicity for the orphanage and as she announced his name and he rose from his chair, flashbulbs from several cameras went off, momentarily blinding him and Harry tried not to scowl. Pansy’s eyes followed her husband and she smiled, thinking how handsome he looked in his dress robes. She’d wondered why he opted to wear them instead of just a Muggle tuxedo, which he preferred if he had to wear formal dress. This must have been the reason.

“Draco, did you know about this?” Hermione said, having noticed her husband was the only one in the room not looking surprised. He raised a tuxedoed shoulder in a half shrug.

“He’s right. You couldn’t have kept the secret,” he said coolly, but before his wife could offer a retort, Harry began to speak.

“Good evening. As Narcissa said, and on behalf of the children, I’d like to thank you all for coming and donating so generously to the orphanage,” he said.

“I’m sure most of you know my story and how my parents were killed in the first Wizarding War. By definition, I was an orphan. It was only because Albus Dumbledore literally left me on my aunt and uncle’s doorstep that I didn’t end up in the orphanage. Seventeen years later, another child was orphaned in the Battle at Hogwarts, a bare month after he was born because his parents believed so strongly that Voldemort needed to be defeated. If it hadn’t been for his grandmother, my godson, Teddy Lupin, would have joined so many other children in the orphanage whose parents were killed during the second war.”

Harry paused and looked at Andromeda Tonk, who sat beside her sister, blinking back tears, then at Hermione, who was wiping away a tear of her own, clutching Draco’s hand; and at Pansy who nodded in agreement.

“In honor of them, I am renaming the Wizard’s Orphanage the Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin Home for Young Witches and Wizards.”

Applause filled the room and people rose to their feet. Harry thanked them again and turned the spotlight back over to Narcissa, happy to retreat back to his table.

Later in the evening once the music had begun and Draco was holding his wife in his arms on the dance floor, he put his mouth close to her ear. “Do you think anyone would notice if we left?”

She pulled back to look at him with a seductive smile. “What did you have in mind, Mr. Malfoy?”

Usually when her husband suggested sneaking out of events it was to have a quick shag somewhere.

“Not that, actually,” he admitted. “I was wondering if it’s too late for you to take me to meet our son tonight.”

After Harry’s speech, the blonde wizard had been thinking a lot about the infant Hermione wanted them to adopt, wondering what he looked like. Hermione looked at Draco, a lump in her throat at hearing him say those words. _Our son._ She stopping dancing, pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and took him by the hand to lead him from the dance floor and out of the ballroom. Harry and Pansy had been dancing nearby and saw them leave. Harry chuckled.

“I don’t think there’s been an event they haven’t snuck out of to find a room. Maybe we should join them.”  At Pansy’s look he quickly amended his statement. “I don’t mean _join_ them.” He lowered his voice. “I meant sneak out and find a room for ourselves.”

Harry kissed her shoulder, which was bared by her strapless dress of Gryffindor red with gold brocade. “There are lots of rooms in the Manor.”

Pansy’s mouth twitched and she said, “Oh, Harry, you forget. I spent half my childhood here. I know where all the secret passages are. But I think Narcissa might be upset if her guest of honor snuck out.”

Harry scowled slightly.

“I told her I didn’t want to speak. To just open the envelope and reveal the name. But of course she wouldn’t hear of it.”

His wife snorted delicately. “There’s no changing Mrs. M’s mind once she’s made it up.”

He gave her a squeeze and spun her around on the dance floor.

“Sounds like another pureblood witch I know,” Harry said, earning him a little flick to his ear with her manicured finger.

“Comments like that will not earn you a special tour of Malfoy Manor,” she teased.

When the song ended, they made their way to the area where drinks were being served. Harry began to order Pansy a glass of wine until she put her hand on his arm.

“Oh. Right,” he said with a tender smile at her, and changed it to sparkling cider. Neither of them noticed the witch who had accosted Pansy outside the Ministry standing nearby, whispering to the Quick-Quotes-Quill floating down near her feet, out of people’s line of sight.

Hermione and Draco apparated from the Manor to outside of the orphanage, the new name already etched into the stone above the large, wooden doors. She clung to him briefly once they arrived, her head spinning and her stomach lurching. For a moment Hermione thought she might be sick.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked. She nodded her head.

“Fine. Apparating after wine and pudding just isn’t a good idea.” She took a deep breath and the feelings faded away.

They went inside and she led the way to the infant ward. It was quiet as most of the babies were already asleep. The witch who sat at a desk smiled as Hermione approached.

“Mrs. Malfoy, I thought you’d be at the ball tonight. You’re certainly dressed for it,” she said.

“Hello, Emmaline,” Hermione greeted her. “We were at the ball. I don’t suppose my little friend is still awake?”

“Actually, he is and we were just about to give him his nighttime bottle. Would you like to do it?” The witch laughed at herself. “That’s a silly question isn’t it? Of course you do.” She waved her hand in the direction of the room where the cribs were located. “You know where to go. We’ll bring his bottle in straight away.”

Draco had been looking around, taking in the environment where the orphaned children were being cared for. The walls were painted in bright, cheery colors and he had seen into some of the other rooms where there were child size tables and chairs as well as toys for the older children. He followed Hermione down a hallway into another room that held a row of four cribs. Three of them held sleeping babies. A charm shimmered around each, making them soundproof for the child but allowing its cries to be heard. Another witch, dressed in robes similar to Emmaline, stood at a fourth, talking to an infant while she changed its nappy.

“Hello, Melinda,” said Hermione, as the witch picked up the baby and turned around, now done with her task.

“Mrs. Malfoy, come for the nighttime bottle have you?”

“I didn’t realize that’s the time it was, but since it is, yes,” replied Hermione. “I also wanted to introduce my husband. We’ve put in papers to adopt him.”

Melinda’s eyes sparkled as she smiled widely. She suspected as much was going to happen, given the amount of time Hermione had spent with the infant over the last weeks.

“Well, I’ll let you make the introductions then, and go get his bottle.”

“No need, Melinda,” said Emmaline, walking in with just that. “Here you go.” She handed it to Draco.

“Sit down, Draco,” Hermione indicated a group of comfortable armchairs on the other side of the room from the cribs. He chose one and sat tentatively on the edge of the cushion. “No, scoot back, you’ll want to be able to rest your arms.”

After he had slid backwards, she said to Melinda. “Give him to Draco. I need to transfigure this dress before I hold him. Too many beads.”

“Wait.” The wizard put the bottle down to shrug out of his jacket and put it across the back of the chair. Any spills or other baby messes would be more easily cleaned off his shirt.

Melinda laid the swaddled baby in his arms. The child eyes were open and he regarded the man with interest. Or, as much interest as a child his age could Draco thought. This was only the second time he’d held a baby. James was the first and he’d handed him back to Harry quickly when he’d started to squirm, afraid he’d drop him. This one wasn’t moving, except to blink and open and close his mouth. He reminded Draco of a fish.

“He wants the bottle, darling,” said Hermione.

He looked up at her. The green sparkly dress was now a plain green casual one and her stiletto heels had been transfigured into more practical sandals. Her curls were now captured at the back of her head. He gingerly placed the nipple into the baby’s mouth and he latched on vigorously.

“Hungry are you, mate?” he said.

Hermione perched on the arm of the chair, putting an arm around her husband’s shoulder and leaned her head against his. They sat in silence, watching the baby suck from the bottle. When it was half empty, she said, “He needs a burp.”

Draco pulled the bottle from the baby’s mouth and he made the first sound since they’d arrived, scrunching his face and letting out a wail.

“But he wants more,” Draco told her.   
  
“He can have it, but if he doesn’t burp, he could spit it all back up or have gas later.”

Hermione took the protesting baby from him and put him to her shoulder, patting firmly on his small back. Draco watched, thinking how comfortably she handled him; how natural she looked doing it and wondered how he could have ever thought to deny her the chance at motherhood, regardless of how it came about. She moved to hand the baby back to him, the burp mission accomplished, but he put his hands at her waist and drew her down onto his lap. Hermione held the bottle for the baby while Draco held the two of them in a loose embrace, his chin on her shoulder, watching as the infant’s eyes began to close as he finished the bottle. With his dark eyes and what appeared to be dark whorls of downy hair on his head, he could pass as Hermione’s biological child. But seeing the look on his wife’s face as she gazed at the infant in her arms, Draco didn’t care if the child’s hair was redder than all the Weasley’s combined. This was their son. He nuzzled her neck, a curl that had escaped her efforts, tickling his nose.

“So he has no name?” he said softly. She shook her head.

“None that anyone knows.”

“What shall we name him, then?”

Hermione turned her head a little to regard her husband. She had given this some serious thought, actually. She knew astrological names were traditional on the Black side of his family but had no idea if there were any kind of Malfoy name traditions.

“His father’s name was Liam, and I thought perhaps we could use that as his middle name,” she began and Draco nodded in agreement.

“And a first name?”

“How would you feel about naming him after your father?”

“After my father?” Draco echoed, looking at the baby, now asleep in Hermione’s arms.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione finish their visit at the orphanage and later break the news to Narcissa. Harry and Pansy find themselves in the paper again, get confirmation of the home pregnancy test and tell Molly and Arthur their news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in updating. All kinds of new developments for our couples! Hope you enjoy! Ch 28 should be following hot on the heels of this one as part of it has been written for ages. : ) 
> 
> As always, these lovely characters belong to JK Rowling. Only the plot is mine.

Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to Azkaban as a war criminal after the fall of the Dark Lord. His wife and son had gone to visit him regularly at first, but then he began to refuse their visits and officials said he spent most of his days in solitude, not even leaving his cell for meals.

Hermione worked hard to forgive her father-in-law for the things he’d done. She spent long hours talking to both Draco and his mother about their life before Voldemort’s return. Narcissa’s tales painted a picture of a completely different person than Hermione had known. She told stories of how she and Lucius met at Hogwarts and showed her photos of their wedding and before Draco was born. She told her how excited her husband had been when they learned she was pregnant and how he helped care for Draco as an infant by doing things like bringing him to her for nighttime feedings. Hermione said she couldn’t imagine Lucius changing a nappy and her mother in law pulled out a photo where she’d captured just such an event when the young father held up his son to show off his accomplishment and the nappy fell off; not having been fastened properly. Young Lucius looked so much like his son currently did, Hermione would have thought it her husband had she not been told differently.

In the end she came to the conclusion that Lucius was not inherently as bad a person as she had thought in years past and had been manipulated by fear and prejudice, and a lot of what he’d done was to try and protect his wife and son. After she and Draco were married, they’d sent numerous owls with photos and letters, but Hermione didn’t know if he’d opened them as they got no response. She thought naming the baby after him might be a reminder of better days and memories.

“After my father?” her husband repeated, looking from the baby in her arms to her face to see if she was kidding. She was not.

“Yes. I think Lucius Liam Malfoy has a nice ring to it, don’t you? We could call him Luci, for short.”

At the sound of the nickname, a childhood memory long forgotten surfaced of his mother laughing and calling his father Luci. Those happy days had ended when Draco went away to school and the Dark Lord began to resurface. Swallowing away a sudden lump of emotion, he tightened his arms around the baby and his wife and hid his face in her neck, pressing a kiss to the soft skin there.

Lifting his head, he cleared his throat and said, “Yes, I think Lucius Liam Malfoy is a brilliant name.”

The couple returned the sleeping infant to his crib and immediately the spells around it were activated to notify the night nurses if he awoke. They said their goodbyes and thank yous to Emmaline and Melinda and requested they not mention that were putting in to adopt the baby as they hadn’t said anything to Narcissa yet. The witches assured them they wouldn’t say a word.

“Do you think we should go back to the Manor?” Draco asked her as they made their way out of the orphanage.

“I don’t know if I can transfigure this back to what it was,” Hermione said, indicating her dress. “It was pretty elaborate. Besides, I’m suddenly exhausted. Can we just go home?”

“Home it is then, Mrs. Malfoy.”

The morning after the ball, Harry and Pansy allowed themselves the luxury of sleeping in since James had spent the night with his grandparents. His wife was still asleep when Harry slid from bed to go downstairs and make tea. He had a feeling of deja vu when he looked at the front page of The Daily Prophet. Like that morning in February after he and Pansy went shopping with James, a photograph of the two of them was prominently featured. The headline read **HARRY POTTER REVEALED AS ORPHANAGE BENEFACTOR** and had an article about his donation to the orphanage and the reason for the name change. But a smaller sidebar beside the photo was headed **_Pansy Potter Pregnant?_ ** The photograph had been taken as he leaned in to kiss his wife before standing to take the podium. It showed him place a gentle hand on her still flat abdomen. He didn’t even realize he’d done so and he chuckled as he tucked the paper under his arm and picked up two mugs of tea -- one decaf -- to take back upstairs to their bedroom.

“Pans, we made the paper again,” he said, entering, but found himself talking to an empty room. He looked around, putting the mugs and newspaper down on the dresser. As he did, his eye caught his old wedding band on the tray that held odds and ends. Harry picked it up. It felt like nothing but cold metal to him now. He put it back down.

“Pansy?” he called again, turning as the door to their adjoining bathroom opened and his wife emerged, looking pale and shaky.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

“I think we have more proof I’m pregnant,” Pansy tried to joke with a wan smile. She had felt Harry get out the bed and figured he’d gone to make tea. Deciding to freshen up before he came back, she’d sat up and immediately her stomach rolled like she was on an out of control broom, making her dash for the bathroom

“Come back to bed,” Harry said, putting an arm about her waist and leading her back to the bed. “I made tea. That should help.”

He got her settled and handed her the tea. She took a tentative sip and relaxed as the warm, lightly sweetened liquid reached her stomach that, minutes before was trying to turn itself inside out as she dry heaved over the toilet. She smiled at him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He got his own mug and joined her back on the bed, turned so he could look at her. “Why is it the moment you know, the sickness starts?”

“Ginny was the same?” Pansy asked. He nodded.

“I think it’s a mental thing. No,“ he added when she frowned at him. “I don’t mean that you’re mental. I mean that once your brain knows you’re pregnant it expects you to have morning sickness.” He shrugged. “So you do.”

“That is mental,” she said. “How do I tell my brain to make it stop? I don’t want to do that every morning. It’s exhausting.” Pansy leaned back against the pillows.

“Well, there are potions that you can take,” Harry paused as she started to shake her head. “Yeah, that’s how Ginny felt too, although there are some that are probably safer than others. But it helped her to keep her stomach from getting too empty. She said that’s when she felt the worst. So she kept plain biscuits in her nightstand drawer and when she woke up in the morning, she’d eat a couple.”

“That worked?” Pansy asked, brightening.

“Most days,” he said. “Some days were just worse than others. Ginger tea helps too. There’s probably still some in a tin downstairs.”

Harry reached over to take her mug and put it down on his nightstand so he could pull her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest.

“But it shouldn’t last too long. If you really did get pregnant the night Maurizio was born you should be around 8 weeks by now. We’ll make you an appointment with a healer and they can tell you.”

“Did you say something about us being in the paper again?” she asked, snuggling into him, feeling better.

“Yes. _Accio newspaper._ ” He summoned it from the dresser and unfolded it so they could read the article which speculated that Pansy was pregnant and that she had been when they got married. It cited seeing _“the lovely Mrs. Potter, who was wearing a gown of her own design in Gryffindor colors, drinking sparkling cider instead of champagne or wine”_.

“How did they get that picture?” she wondered. “I don’t even remember you doing that. Putting your hand on my stomach, that is. I remember you kissing me.” Pansy placed one of her own on his cheek.

“Neither do I, but we have photographic proof,” replied Harry, repeating the gesture. She covered it with her other one and he tipped his head towards her. Stopping when their lips were barely touching, he murmured, “You did brush your teeth, right?”

Pansy burst out laughing and pulled his head down to kiss him.

At their flat, Draco was preparing a light breakfast to bring to his wife whom he’d let sleep after her comments of being so tired when they returned home from the orphanage the night before. He grabbed the newspaper from the window ledge where the delivery owl had dropped it and put it on the tray with the tea cups and plate of blueberry scones. Hermione was sitting up in bed, scribbling on a piece of parchment when he elbowed the door open and entered carrying the tray.

“What are you up to? Writing me a love letter?”

She looked up from the parchment. “Making a list of all the things we’re going to need to get before we bring Luci home.”

Draco sat the tray on the bed and joined her to look at her list. It ranged from big items like a crib and pushchair to things like clothes and diapers and bottles. “That’s a long list.”

“Babies need a lot of things.”

“Eat up, then. If we’re going shopping, you’ll need energy.” He handed her a tea cup.

She laughed and took a sip before replying. “Darling, I think we need to be approved to adopt him before we go shopping.”

“Do you think we won’t?” Draco looked concerned.

“No, I think it’s just a formality,” she said, putting a hand on his arm and giving him a wink. “We are Malfoys after all.” The newspaper caught her eye. “Is that Harry and Pansy on the front page again?”

Hermione picked it up and unfolded the periodical, looking at the photograph and the sidebar headline. “Oh look, they think Pansy is pregnant.”

Draco swallowed his bite of scone before replying. “She is.”

His wife dropped the paper. “Wait, what? How do you know?”

“Harry told me last night when I was avoiding you.”

“When did they find out?” Hermione was bouncing on the bed, rattling the teacups; needing more information than her husband was providing.

“Just the day before I think. What are you doing?”

She had flung the covers back and was out of bed, pulling off her nightgown as she walked toward the door of their adjacent bathroom.

“Showering and getting dressed so I can go see Harry and Pansy!”

Draco’s laughter followed her into the bathroom.

The newly expectant couple weren’t home when their friends arrived, Draco having decided to tag along with Hermione. She huffed with disappointment, which evaporated when he suggested they pay a visit to the orphanage and stop back later. He wanted to see the baby they were going to adopt again. Now Draco understood why his wife had been spending so much time there. The infant filled a spot in his heart he hadn’t realized was empty until the night before. Emmaline was still on duty when they arrived.

“Back so soon?” she teased the couple. “You future son has just had his bath and is in the playroom.”

“Your what?” said a voice and all three turned to see Narcissa Malfoy just exiting the director’s office. She had stopped by to tell him the final total the ball raised for the orphanage.

“Hello, Mother,” said Draco, his voice sounding calmer than he felt. His mother hated surprises and this certainly was a big one.

“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,” said Emmaline quietly.

“It’s all right, Emmaline,” Hermione told her. “It was time we told Narcissa anyway.”

“Tell me what, dear?” A smiled played around the older witch’s mouth. She knew exactly what was going on, having been clued in by the director the day Hermione filled out the paperwork, but had decided to let them tell her when they were ready.

“Congratulations, Mother. You’re going to be a grandmother,” her son said, slipping an arm around his wife’s waist.

“We’ve put into adopt the baby I’ve been visiting. The one whose parents were killed in Egypt,” added Hermione.

Narcissa allowed the smile to break free, and reached out to embrace them. “That’s wonderful news, my dears! I have to admit I hoped as much when I saw Hermione with him that first day. They seemed to have an instant bond. Now, let’s go see my grandson.”

The couple followed her into the playroom, Draco wondering if his mother hadn’t known all along and was just have a go at them. The baby was reclined in a magical version of a baby swing. Unlike the Muggle kind, this was was not attached to anything and simply swung gently back and forth in mid-air.

Wanting to get ahead of the rumors, Harry and Pansy visited St. Mungo’s before going picking up James. Hence the reason they were not home when their friends arrived. They met with Healer Krivinko who confirmed the Muggle test, said Harry’s estimate of eight weeks along was correct and gave her a due date of April 1 which made Harry laugh, explaining that was Fred and George’s birthday.

“Oh, dear,” said Pansy, remembering the Weasley twins’ penchant for mischief and mayhem. “Yes, let’s hope for a different day.”

They left the hospital armed with rolls of parchment full of various pregnancy-related information, and sample vials of vitamin potions. When they arrived at The Burrow they were greeted not with the usual greeting of “Hello, dears” from Molly, but an excited, “Is it true? Is the story in The Prophet true?”

Pansy smiled at the older witch. “Yes, I’m pregnant. We found out the day before the ball.”

She was immediately swept into a famous Molly Weasley hug that had her gasping for breath before Harry said laughing, “Molly, you’ll squash the baby!”

That got Pansy released with an apologetic look of horror and so quickly she stumbled backward, which made Harry laugh even harder as he reached out to steady his wife.

“I suspected as much the other day,” Molly said when they were sat for tea. “But it wasn’t my place to pry. Not being your mother and all.”

“You and Mrs. Malfoy are the closest I have to a mother these days,” Pansy told her and suddenly felt her eyes fill with tears at the thought of not being able to share her pregnancy with her mother or that her own parents would never see their grandchild. She tried to blink them back, but they only spilled down her cheeks.

The older witch reached over and patted her hand. “Hormones dear. Be prepared.”

Pansy sniffled, and wiped her eyes with a napkin. James, who had been making his animal crackers chase one another around on the plate suddenly noticed her tears. He dropped the food and crawled from his own chair onto her lap, taking her face in his small hands.

“Don’t cry, mama,” he said, and gave her a kiss. It was more a smacking of his own lips together and then pressing them to hers than a kiss, but the toddler’s gesture spurred another round of tears in Pansy’s eyes. It even had Harry blinking rapidly behind his lenses.

“Oh James,” she said, gathering him into her arms and holding him close until he began to squirm.

Arthur, having experienced his share of emotional pregnant witches, thought he would leave his wife alone with the younger to share some woman talk.

“Harry, why don’t you and I take James outside for a while?” He suggested, standing up and plucking James from Pansy’s arms. “I was cleaning out the broom shed the other day and came across some old training brooms. One might be just the size to get James here started flying.”

“Fly? With Daddy?” the boy clapped his hands.

“No, my boy. I think it’s time you learn to fly by yourself. What do you think of that?” Arthur asked and he and Harry chuckled at the look on James’ face as they went outside.

Molly saw the look of concern flash across Pansy’s face and patted her hand again.

“No worries, dear. His toes will barely be off the ground. Arthur knows what he’s doing. A right fine flyer he was in his day. Taught all our boys — and Ginny — to fly.”

Then she poured them each some fresh tea and said, “Now that they’re gone, let’s talk. How are you feeling? Really?”

Molly’s kind tone triggered more tears.

“Am I going to be like this for the next seven months?” Pansy wailed, feeling torn between being angry and wanting to sob.

“No, of course not,” Molly soothed her. “Some days you’ll want to blow Harry’s broom to bits for something like leaving the seat up in the loo.”

That made Pansy giggle. She picked up one of James’ abandoned animal crackers and bit the ears off a rabbit. Then she told her surrogate mother about the morning sickness that made its appearance that morning and confided that she was quite terrified; not knowing what to expect from her body, let alone how to care for a newborn. The Weasley matriarch understood. She had been in Pansy’s shoes when she got pregnant the first time, with Bill. Hers was a pure blood family, although not as well off as the Parkinson’s and sex was barely discussed, let alone pregnancy and childbirth. It was simply accepted as part of life. It was Arthur’s Aunt Muriel, surprisingly enough, who had taken young Molly aside and asked if she had any questions; answering them openly and honestly. And so Molly did the same with Pansy; just as she had with Ginny three years before. As she looked at the raven haired witch sat beside her, so different in appearance from her own daughter, she realized she was coming to care for the young woman whom she had once thought was replacing her daughter. Coming to care for her like one.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione continue the process to adopt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you this chapter would follow close on the heels of the previous one! Enjoy!

True to his word, Draco had the social worker back to their flat within days for a second visit. Hermione watched with amusement as he showed the witch around their home and answered her questions. Yes, the baby would have his own room. No, he didn’t realize how many safety hazards there were in a flat for a child once it started crawling. _Childcare_? Hermione of course. No, she didn’t work. Unless tutoring counted. And volunteer work. But obviously she would cut back on that once they brought the baby home. _Family_? That was the only question that gave him pause. Surely the witch knew his father was in Azkaban. Hermione’s parents lived in Australia, he supplied, but his mother was close enough. Finally, the visit — or inquisition as Draco had come to think of it — ended. Before leaving, the social worker said she would submit her report and they would be notified via owl in a few days if their application was approved. After two days of watching Hermione nervously clean their flat the Muggle way, breaking nails from scrubbing and blistering her hands from holding a mop too tightly, Draco owled Pansy and asked her to take his wife shopping or something as a distraction.  

“You were the one who told me the approval process was just a formality, love,” Draco told her, when his former housemate appeared in their floo. “Go with Pansy and get out for a bit.”

Taking her protesting friend by the arm, Pansy guided her into the fireplace, sending her to the one in her shop.

“Since when is your store connected to the Floo Network and where are we going?” asked Hermione. “What if the owl comes?”

“Since Harry decided I shouldn’t be apparating anymore. Which is okay. It was making me sick. If it comes, it will be there when you get back,” Pansy said, leading her out the Muggle side of the store. “And our first stop is the nail salon. I’d like to get a pedicure while I can still see my toes.”

Hermione laughed, relaxing a little for the first time since the social worker’s departure. She had barely slept and once when she did, had a dream that their application to adopt was rejected. She woke sobbing and Draco had to convince her to take a few drops of Dreamless Sleep. When she finally calmed down and fell asleep again, he held her all night, sleeping little himself.

“Pansy, you’re not even showing yet! I think you have a little time. But a pedi sounds lovely.”

The pair walked arm in arm down the street to the nail salon. Between the chair she was sat in massaging her back and the manicurist massaging her feet, Hermione almost dozed off. After their toes were painted and dry, it was off to a shop that sold maternity clothing. Pansy said she was going to make her own but wanted to get an idea of styles and how the designs differed from regular clothes. She did end up purchasing a dress, which was a full, A-line style she could wear now and later. Next to the clothing store was one that sold baby furniture and accessories.

“Let’s go look in there,” Pansy suggested. “You’re going to need to buy a crib, so you might as see what you like.”

“You don’t think it’s bad luck or anything?” Hermione worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

“No. You’re going to be approved and you’re going to be a mom; as sure as I’m going to feel like throwing up tomorrow morning,” the other witch said confidently. “Speaking of which, I need a snack so I don’t feel like that while we’re shopping.”

Across the street was a small cafe, so they crossed and got a table; ordering fruit, cheese and biscuits to share, but Pansy did most of the eating. Hermione ate a piece of cheese and nibbled on a biscuit. When they had finished, they returned to the furnishings store. The store was set up with example nursery’s, complete with crib, changing tables, dressers and rocking chairs. Each “room” was done up in a theme with bedding, window curtains and accessories.

“Pans, look at that one!” Hermione pointed. A large stuffed dragon sat in a rocking chair, while the pattern on the bedding and curtains showed a castle being protected by two dragons. It was a Muggle interpretation of what a dragon might look like, but at least this one was not as cartoonish as others Hermione had encountered growing up.

“It doesn’t look like Norbert, but it’s cute,” Pansy agreed. “We are getting James a big bed for his birthday, so we’ll use his crib for the baby and I’ll make new bedding. But you need all of this. Do you like the dark or light wood?”

Hermione didn’t answer the question. She didn’t want to look too far ahead since they hadn’t heard back from the social worker or orphanage yet and asked one of her own.

“Are you going to find out if you’re having a boy or a girl?”

“No. I don’t want to know and neither does Harry.”

“I think I would want to know,” said Hermione a little wistfully.

“You’re going to need a pushchair for your little guy,” said Pansy, changing the subject, and steering her toward a row of shiny ones. “Hey, what are you going to call him? You said his parents never named him, right?”

“No, they didn’t. We have a name, but we want to tell Narcissa first.”

Pansy nodded, thinking it must be a family name for them to want to do that. A display of wearable baby slings caught her eye. “What do you think of these? It might be good for working in the shop. Keep my hands free for pinning and such.”

“I’ve seen a lot of mothers with them. I think that would work well for you,” Hermione told her friend, picking up one and putting it over her head and shoulder. “See, look.” She plucked a teddy bear from a nearby shelf and tucked it into the sling. They shared a laugh at the sight of the stuffed animal peeking out.

“You should get one, Hermione. I’m sure the staff tries but I’ll bet they can’t give the babies as attention as they need. This would help him bond with you,” Pansy encouraged.

“If we get him.” Hermione looked at her watch then pleadingly at her friend. “Can we go back now? To see if an owl came?”

Pansy agreed and they left the store and made their way back to her shop.

“I’m not going to let you sit around and worry yourself sick, Hermione,” she warned. “If you don’t hear anything today, you’re coming with James and me to the park tomorrow. He’s been asking about his Auntie Mione anyway.”

Hermione smiled at the mention of her godson whom she hadn’t seen in a while. “Okay.” She hugged Pansy. “Thank you. This was fun. But I think I need a nap.”

“Me too.” Pansy watched as her friend floo’d home, and hoped they would hear something soon.

Hermione arrived home and her desire for a nap was forgotten when she stepped out the the fireplace to an explosion of blue confetti.

“What on earth?”

As the air cleared she saw the room was filled with blue balloons and a large banner was suspended in the air reading, _“IT’S A BOY!”_ Draco was sat on the sofa, a huge smile on his face as he saw her. Her eyes landed on him, then took in the banner and balloons and went back to him. He stood up.

“Congratulations, love. Or should I say ‘Mum’?”

Her eyes went wide. “Really?”

“Really,” he told her. “The owl came shortly after you and Pansy left. So I decided to decorate a little for you.”

Hermione threw herself at her husband, her arms going around his neck to hold him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her waist to return the embrace and felt her body shake with a sob. Leaning back from her, he tipped his head to look at her face.

“Are you crying?”

“They’re happy tears,” she replied, laughing and crying at the same time. “When can we go get him?”

“We have to go sign the papers and pay the adoption fee, but the letter said we could do that as early as tomorrow,” he told her.

“Tomorrow! We have so much to do!” she exclaimed, wiping the tears from her face. “Where’s my list? Oh, I should have listened to Pansy and looked at furniture in that store! Where is he going to sleep? And we need clothes and formula and nappies and -- ”

Draco took her face in his hands and silenced her with a slow, loving kiss. “Right then,” he said. “Your list is on the table. I already sent a copy to Mother because I think she wanted to furnish the nursery; if that’s alright with you.” Hermione nodded. “And I owled Harry who said we could have James’ baby clothes to start, since they won’t need them back for a little while. He said he would send them over --”

A sound at the floo had them turning to see two boxes sail out and land on the floor.

“Check clothes off the list, love.” He grinned at her.

Hermione was in the midst of sorting through the boxes, having sent Draco to the spare bedroom to spell the bed and mattress smaller for storage so there was room for the crib and other furnishings, when the floo sounded again and Narcissa stepped out, carrying a box of her own.

“Congratulations, dear!” she put the box next to the ones Hermione was unpacking and pulled her into a warm embrace. Stepping back, she opened the box to reveal miniature versions of nursery furniture. “It was easier to bring them this way,” Narcissa explained.

“Draco is in the bedroom now,” Hermione said. “Let’s take it to him.”

An hour later the nursery was furnished with a crib, dresser that doubled as a changing table, bookcase and a rocking chair that Hermione remarked looked like an antique.

“It is, dear. It was Lucius’ grandmother’s. His mother used it and gave it to me when we were expecting Draco,” her mother in law explained. “Sit in it. It has an amazing cushioning charm.”

Hermione sat on the wooden seat that to the naked eye looked hard and unyielding, but made the sitter feel as if they were in a comfortable, overstuffed armchair. Her eyes widened in surprise and she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “This is brilliant. Utterly brilliant.”

“Speaking of father,” said her husband, and she opened her eyes and looked at him, nodding.

“What about him?” asked Narcissa, straightening the bedding in the crib.

Draco stepped closer to Hermione and put his hand on her shoulder.

“We want to name the baby after him,” he told his mother. “It was Hermione’s idea.”

“Lucius Liam,” Hermione said. “Do you think Mr. Malfoy will mind?”

Narcissa opened her mouth and closed it again without speaking. Draco had never seen his mother without words. Then she said softly, “I think he would be honored.”

Hermione and Draco were at the orphanage first thing the next morning. Narcissa had also brought the gown Draco had come home from the hospital in and after a couple altering spells it fit perfectly. The new family posed for a few photographs and the baby got kisses all around from the witches who had cared for him before Hermione stepped into the floo with him in her arms to take their son home.

Draco and Hermione had little Lucius, or Luci as they were calling him, home a few weeks and were slowly adjusting to having an infant in their lives and he to having parents. Neither of them had gotten much sleep. He was still waking up every 4 to 5 hours for a feeding, but Hermione seemed to be feeling the lack of sleep more than Draco. She looked pale lately, and refused anything more than a cup of tea in the mornings, citing a queasy stomach. Draco attributed that to no sleep and nerves over learning how to parent. By lunch time, though, she was always ready to eat, and he made sure she did while he held the baby, often giving him the noon time bottle. One morning after an especially rough night, Hermione was coming into the living room, having just changed Luci. Draco was holding out a mug of tea for her when she paused and put a steadying hand out to the nearby wall, the baby cradled in her other arm.

“Hermione, are you alright?”

Her husband sat the mug down and went to walk closer. He was almost within arm’s reach when her knees buckled and her eyes closed in a faint.

“Hermione!” With the quick reflexes of a former seeker, he took the baby from her and cast a spell to cushion her fall to the ground. Placing Luci in the nearby infant seat, he turned his attention to his wife. Kneeling beside her, he muttered, _Ennervate,_ and her eyes fluttered open.

“Draco? What happened? Where’s the baby?” She tried to sit up and he lifted her to a sitting position, cradled against him.

“He’s fine. You fainted, Hermione,” he told her. “You’re going to see a healer. Something's not right. This is more than lack of sleep. What if I hadn’t been here? You both could have been hurt!”

“You’re right,” she agreed, her eyes filling with tears as she looked over at the baby who meant so much to her. He was lying in the seat, looking at the attached mobile, safe and oblivious to what had happened, thanks to Draco’s intervention. “I’ve been short on sleep before and not felt like this. Luci has a checkup tomorrow anyway.”

At St. Mungo’s the next day, Draco insisted Hermione be seen first, before the baby. He sat in the waiting room, holding his son in his arms while she met with the healer, his foot bouncing anxiously. Finally, he heard his name and looked up and was surprised to see Healer Krivinko standing in the doorway.

“Please, come join me and your wife,” said the healer, dressed in his usual red robes. Puzzled, Draco followed him to and examination room where Hermione sat on a table, an unreadable expression on her face. His confusion turned to concern.

“Hermione? Love, what’s wrong? Why did you see Healer Krivinko?” Draco asked. She held out her arms to take the baby from him. Once she had him, she smiled first down at her son and then at her husband.

“Darling, there’s nothing wrong. Nothing at all. I’m pregnant,” Hermione said, her smile widening.

“You’re what?”

“Pregnant. The tiredness, the queasy stomach, the fainting yesterday. It’s all because I’m pregnant. Luci is going to have a brother or sister.”

“But I thought?” Draco turned to look at the healer, who was beaming at the two of them. “How?”

“I told you there was always a possibility. Sometimes, life finds a way. Regardless of what science tell us.”

“When?”

“April 1,” Hermione told him.

“A baby,” Draco said, stunned.

“Two babies,” she corrected him, nuzzling her cheek against the downy head of the baby in her arms.

“Two babies,” he echoed. Then he repeated himself a smile breaking over his face. “Two babies!” And he pulled his wife and son into an embrace.

Healer Krivinko allowed the family a moment of celebration before he spoke again.

“Hermione, all the tests I did today looked good, but given your history, I am going to consider this a high risk pregnancy and monitor you and the baby closely. Normally I would only see you once a month this early on, but I want to see you twice a month,” he told her.

“I know you have this little one here and infants are a handful, but I would like to you be gentle on yourself. Nap when Luci does. Don’t overexert. I know you’re Muggleborn so I suspect you use both magical and Muggle methods to do things. I want you to use magic for lifting and carrying things.”

Hermione had nodded along, agreeing to everything the healer said, but Draco knew his wife and knew that if she got a notion to do something, all these warnings would go out the window. He vowed to make sure his unborn child stayed safe. Even if it meant incurring the wrath of one stubborn witch. Once Luci’s checkup was complete and he too, was given a clean bill of health, they departed for home. Hermione was still trying to wrap her highly logical brain around the fact that she’d gotten pregnant despite all the reasons why she shouldn’t have. She didn’t see an uneven patch on the walk and tripped.

“Hermione!” Draco grabbed her arm to steady her. “We should have floo’d home.”

“Draco, I’m fine. I simply tripped. Besides, Luci doesn’t like floo-ing, do you darling?” She kissed the top of the baby’s head which was the only part of him you could see as he was strapped to her chest in a sling.

“He’ll get used to it. But what if you had fallen? You could have hurt him and the baby!”

“Draco, I’m a witch. I could have stopped myself from hitting the pavement,” she said, frowning at him. “You’re not going to start hovering over me and telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing, are you?”

“It’s possible. In fact, I think we should skip the party tonight.”

They had arrived home, and Hermione reserved comment until after she had transferred their sleeping son into his crib and joined her husband in the kitchen where he was making tea. The party to which he referred was the annual gathering at Harry’s house. It started a few years before for her birthday, which was coming up, and had turned into an annual event where the friends celebrated all the milestones or events that had occurred in the past year. She accepted the cup of tea he handed her and went to sit on the couch, curling her legs beneath her.

“Draco, we have to go! Not everyone has met Luci, and we can tell them the big news as well.” Her brown eyes shown at him over the rim of the cup.

“I just think it’s too much, love. You know how late it goes and you need to rest as much as possible. You’re sleeping for two.” He reached out and caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“I’ve been sleeping for two for twelve weeks without knowing it.”

“Granger, you haven’t been sleeping for weeks. You hardly slept before we brought Luci home and you haven’t had more than four hours sleep at a stretch since he’s been here.”

She saw the concern in her husband’s gray eyes, and mimicked his action with her hand on his face.

“Luci’s sleeping now. How about I take a nap too. Then can we go?”

He nodded. “Okay. But as soon as you get tired tonight, we’re leaving.”

She stood and held out her hand, smiling at him. “Why don’t you join me?”

Minutes later they were snuggled in their bed. Relaxed in Draco’s arms, Hermione fell asleep almost immediately and he decided he would make sure she napped at least once a day when Luci did. While she slept, he thought about things he could do to make her life easier, beginning with working from home. He’d been doing so since they adopted Luci but had planned on going back to his office soon. Now that Hermione was pregnant, he decided to continue staying home. He didn’t really have a home office, but they could put an extension charm on their bedroom and give him some space there. _Pregnant!_ He thought. _She was really going to have a baby!_ Life finds a way, the healer said, and somehow it had. Draco pulled her closer against his chest and pressed a kiss to her curls. Eventually he too, drifted off, waking to Luci crying. Hermione was still sleeping soundly, evidence of how much she needed it, and he eased his way off the bed so that she would stay asleep.

“Hey, hey, mate. What’s all that noise about?” he said softly, entering his son’s room. When the baby heard his voice, his wails lessened and ceased altogether when he was lifted from the crib.

Draco held the baby to his chest and walked to the changing table. He still wasn’t confident in his nappy-changing skills, but like Quidditch, it was going to take practice to get it right. He continued to speak softly as he lay the infant down and went about unsnapping the footed sleeper he wore and tending to the nappy.

“Thank Merlin you’re just wet,” he told him and the baby kicked his legs, happy to be out of the clothing.

He managed to get the clean nappy under his bottom and the one side secured, but struggled with the other.

“Your mum and these cloth nappies!” he told Luci. “I know they make other kinds that you just toss away and have little tapes to close.”

He’d seen disposables in the store and in adverts on the telly. But Hermione said cloth ones were better for the environment, and unfortunately his mother agreed, saying that was the only kind used in the magical world. Draco was just grateful for magic to clean them. He gave up on the pin and used a sticking spell to close the other side. Then he maneuvered his son’s small legs back into the sleeper and did up the snaps.

“All done,” he declared, and picked the baby back up. “What shall we do now? We’re going to let Mummy sleep a while longer. Did you hear? You’re going to be a big brother. Well, as big as a ten month advantage will give you.”

The pair settled onto the couch, Draco sitting with his back to the arm and his knees bent to let the baby lean against his legs, Luci’s tiny feet resting on his chest.

“Do you think you’re going to get a brother or a sister? We will know here soon enough, because your mum, she’s going to want to know so she can plan. Not that either of us cares one way or the other, but she’s a planner, your mum is.

“Tonight you’re going to get to meet all kinds of people. Mum and Dad’s friends. Some of them you’ve already met, like Uncle Harry and Aunt Pansy. But Uncle Blaise will be there with Aunt Luna and Maurizio. You and he are the same age. Hopefully you’ll grow up to be best mates like me and Uncle Blaise. Maybe you’ll even be sorted into the same house at Hogwarts. Slytherin would be good, but Mummy would like it if you got put in Gryffindor I’m sure. It doesn’t really matter; they’re all good houses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So all of you who suspected what I was up to, 20 points to your house! This is not an original idea; it actually happened to a friend of my sister's. She was told she shouldn't get pregnant due to a medical condition and so she and her husband went through the process to adopt an infant. They were about to adopt him when she discovered she was pregnant and they ended up having two little boys the same age! What kinds of fun lies ahead for both Hermione and Draco and Harry and Pansy! Stay tuned!


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The former classmates gather at Harry and Pansy's. News is shared and announcements are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am obsessed with my little firepit and was imagining the friends sitting around one a bit larger in Harry and Pansy's backyard, talking and catching up with each other. It's the perfect time of year for it. Right now and in the story. I hope you enjoy this latest addition. Only the plot and a few details are mine. The characters and any other references to things in the Harry Potter books belong to JKR.

At their home in Godric’s Hollow, Harry and Pansy had been having a similar conversation about the evening’s plans.

“Maybe I should just owl everyone and cancel the party tonight,” he said, speaking to his wife from the bedroom side of their bathroom door.

It had been a particularly rough day of morning sickness for Pansy; she’d not been able to keep much down. Blessedly, James had been willing to sit on the bed beside her playing quietly while she rested, as Harry had needed to go in to work that day. Pansy had thanked Merlin several times for summoning charms that brought juice and snacks from the kitchen. The toddler was sweetly concerned about her, and when his father came into the room put a small finger to his lips and said,

“Shhh. Mama sick. She resting.”

“I see that,” Harry said, scooping him up. “Let’s go make some dinner, shall we?”

Pansy gave him a grateful smile and closed her eyes, trying to will away the nausea. But the smell of whatever Harry was making had sent her running to the bathroom yet another time. He had settled James with his toy train and come upstairs to check on her and heard the telltale sounds of dry heaves coming from the beyond the closed door, then water running. The door opened to reveal she was brushing her teeth. Harry waited until she was finished and repeated his statement.

“No! Hermione and Draco are bringing little Lucius!”

Harry cringed inwardly at the sound of the child’s name. He wasn’t sure what possessed his best friend to name her adopted son after one of the most well known former Death Eaters and didn’t know if he would ever get used to it.

“Pansy, love, have you eaten anything today? No, I know the answer.” He took her in his arms and held her close, rubbing her back.

“It’s not that I’m not hungry, Harry, I am!” She tilted her head back to look up at him. “But once I eat a little something, it ends up coming back up!” Her indigo eyes filled with tears. “I thought you said this would go away?”

“I thought it would. You’re twelve weeks now. Ginny’s morning sickness was over by then with James.”

“Clearly I’m not as bloody perfect as your first wife!” Her tears spilled over and she pulled away from him and plopped angrily down on the bed. “And why the hell do they call it morning sickness? It’s half five in the evening!”

“That’s not what I meant. Don’t cry, sweetheart.” Harry crouched down in front in her and reached out to wipe the tears from her face. “I stopped to see Molly and she gave me this.”

He reached into his robes and pulled out a vial of a pale purple potion. Pansy started shaking her head vigorously but he took her face in his hands to halt it and look her in the eye. 

“Pansy, listen to me. You can’t go on like this. It’s not good for the baby. You have to be able to eat. I talked to Molly. She said she was so sick with Charlie and Aunt Muriel mixed this up for her. She said it’s perfectly safe and you only need a few drops.” He brushed his thumbs across her cheekbones. “Just try it. Please.”

It was breaking his heart to see the witch he loved so sick from the life growing inside her that he helped create. It was true that Ginny had some morning sickness but nothing like this. Harry knew she didn’t want to take any potions for fear they’d harm the baby, but he also knew sometimes you needed a little medicinal help. Pansy saw the concern in his green eyes and nodded.

“Okay.”

He placed the vial in her hands and stood. “Three drops. I’m going to go check on James.” At the door Harry turned. “I still think we should cancel tonight.”

“Let me see how I feel after I take this.” Pansy held up the vial. “Go. It’s awfully quiet down there. He might be giving Versace another whisker trim,” she said with a hint of the cheeky smile that had been missing from her demeanor the last few weeks. 

There was the witch he’d fallen in love with. He hurried from the room, hoping she was wrong about James. The boy and Versace had formed a close friendship and recently the toddler had trimmed the cat’s whiskers down to a quarter inch long, giving the feline an odd look. His reasoning was Daddy shaved his whiskers, Sachy was a boy cat so James helped him shave. It was logical and hard to argue with, but his parents tried to explain that cats needed their whiskers and so he shouldn’t do that again. No amateur barbering was taking place, fortunately. James was happily watching his train go around on the track, making choo-choo noises to accompany the movement. Harry didn’t remember setting it  to go magically, but his mind had been on dinner and Pansy.

“Mama better?” the boy asked, seeing his father enter the room.

“She will be. She’s taking Gram’s potion.” Harry waved his hand to halt the train. “Let’s go get washed up for dinner.”

James was standing on a chair at the kitchen sink where he had washed his hands and had turned around to have his father dry them when he saw Pansy coming into the room. 

“Mama!”

Harry turned his head and saw his wife, looking much better than she had minutes before. There was color back in her cheeks and a bit of spring in her step as she approached them. She had brushed her raven hair and it swung around her shoulders. He met her eyes and they both smiled.

“James!” Pansy picked him up from the chair and held him on her hip. “What are you and Daddy making for dinner?”

“Better love?” her husband asked, taking them both in his arms and kissing her.

“Much. Don’t let me be so stubborn,” she replied.

“I can do magic, not miracles,” he said with a laugh, making her swat at his bum with her free hand.

Pansy had been taking medicinal potions her entire life but had never been more appreciative of how quickly they worked than she had been when she unscrewed the dropper from the vial and placed three drops of the lavender liquid under her tongue. Within seconds her nausea was gone, along with the nagging headache that had accompanied it.

Over the meal Pansy assured Harry she was feeling fit enough to go through with the gathering of friends that evening. He agreed on the condition that when she started to feel tired, they would call it a night. James wanted to stay up and see Auntie Mione and Uncle Draco so he was  dressed for bed in his pajamas adorned with dragons   when their guests started to arrive. Blaise and Luna were the first to come through the fireplace, the dark skinned wizard holding his son tight to his chest. The infant was squalling loudly in protest of the floo process .

“There, there, don’t fuss,” Blaise said, loosening his grip and patting the baby’s back. “It’s over now.”

“Here, let me take him,” Pansy said, holding out her arms, into which her former housemate gladly deposited his son. “Harry is in the backyard.”

“Hold me, Mama.” James tugged at her skirt.

“I’m holding Maurizio right now. Why don’t you go outside with Daddy and Uncle Blaise?”

“No. Hold me.” James frowned.

“Looks like someone’s jealous,” commented Luna.

“This is what I'm afraid is going to happen when the baby is born,” replied Pansy. She sat down on the couch. “James, come sit beside me and the baby.”

“No!” He stamped his small foot and clenched his fists. Pansy heard a quiet cracking sound but before she could find the source, there was a knock at the door.

“Let’s go see who that is.” She handed Maurizio to Luna. James happily took her hand and led the way to the front door.

“I open it,” he told her, and put both hands around the knob to turn it and pull open the large wooden door. Pansy helped him to reveal Hermione, Draco and baby Lucius. 

“Auntie Mione!” James exclaimed. “Uncle Draco!” Then, pointing at the baby, “Who’s that?”

“That’s Luci,” Pansy told him, picking him up so he could see the baby in Draco’s arms more closely. “Remember, we told you Aunt Hermione and Uncle Draco adopted a baby.”

“Too many babies,” the toddler declared, scowling at Luci and wriggling to get out of her arms. “Down please. I go with Daddy.”

She placed him on the floor and he ran out the open door and around the side of the house to the backyard. The adults looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Come in, please. Or, Draco, feel free to join Harry and Blaise in the backyard. Luna is inside,” Pansy said, preparing to close the front door. Then she noticed a car parked on the street. “Did you come in that?”

“We did,” Hermione admitted. “We can’t apparate with Luci yet.”

“Why didn’t you just floo in?” Luna asked. “Babies don’t like it at first. Maurizio cried for a half hour the first time we did it with him but now he only fusses for a little while.”

“Draco didn’t want me to floo, either,” said Hermione. “So we drove. It was a good thing I’ve kept my license current. And still had Mum and Dad’s car.  But I had to transfigure a safety seat .”  She looked at her husband. “We need to get a real one if you’re going to keep this up.”

“ Keep what up?  Why didn’t he want you to floo?” asked Pansy.

The husband and wife exchanged looks. Draco shrugged. “Might as well tell them,” he said. “Luci and I will leave you hens to it then. Here, Luna. Hand me Maurizio.” He shifted Luci to one arm and held out his other. “We’ll all go join the men outside.”

Both babies in hand, he made his way through the house to the backyard while Pansy and Luna turned to Hermione who had a spot of pink on each cheek.

“Tell us what?” demanded Pansy, her hands on her hips, reminding Hermione of Molly Weasley.

“I’m pregnant!” She said, feeling like her cheeks would burst from the wideness of her smile.

“What?!” the other two witches shrieked in unison.

The sound reached the group of men outside and Draco grinned. “She must have told them,” he said to his friends. “Hermione is pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” echoed Harry.

“But I thought she couldn’t -- “ started Blaise, who had taken his son back into his arms.

“I know, I know. That’s what we thought too,” said blonde wizard. “ She’s about 12 weeks.  We just found out today. She passed out yesterday holding Luci. It was a good thing I was there. So I insisted she see a healer. He’s considering it a high risk pregnancy because of her history.  That’s why we came in the car. I don’t want her traveling magically unless she absolutely has to.”

“Wait, you drove?” Harry interrupted. His friend laughed.

“Merlin, no. Hermione did. I didn’t even want to come tonight, but she insisted, so we could tell everyone the news.”

“What news?” Neville asked as he and Hannah came walking up from the field where they’d apparated.

Before anyone could answer his question, Pansy, Hermione and Luna came out of the house to join the group.

“Hermione is having a baby too,” said Luna. “She and Pansy are due at the same time. Which means you both conceived when Maurizio was born. I told you, but no one wanted to believe me.”

Neville held up his hands. “Whoa! Having a baby too? Who else is having one? The last baby I knew about was Luna and Blaise’s. And who’s is that?” He pointed at Luci.

Neville and Hannah both worked at Hogwarts; he teaching Herbology, having taken over when Professor Sprout retired and she as the school nurse. Staff had reported in August so they had been somewhat out of touch with their former classmates. They didn’t know about Hermione and Draco’s adopted son as the couple hadn’t sent any announcements yet.

“We’ll fill you in on all the news, but I think first someone needs to go to bed,” Pansy said, picking up James who had come over and was leaning against her leg, eyes half closed. “Harry, why don’t you light the fire while I tuck him in?”

“I’m not tired,” the boy protested, yawning widely.

“Okay, my love. Let’s go read a story then. Say good night to everyone.”

“G’night evy-one,” said James, making the adults laugh.

“Good night, Jamie,” said Hermione, kissing his dark head.

“Granger, sit down and get off your feet,” said Draco, sitting down with Luci on one of the small cushioned sofas Harry had transfigured around a circular fire pit filled with wood.

“Is he warm enough?” she asked, joining him, touching the backs of her fingers to the baby’s cheeks. 

“He’s plenty warm,” her husband assured her, having tucked the baby into the sling stretched across his chest. “What about you?”

“I’m a little chilly, but Harry’s lighting the fire and I’ll be fine.”

As she spoke, Harry pointed his wand at the pile of wood and it burst into bright, crackling flames. Nonetheless, Draco put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“Let me know if you get tired and we’ll go.”

“Malfoy, we just got here! I’m fine,” Hermione assured him. “All we’re doing is sitting ‘round talking, not dueling.”

“Oi!” Came a voice from the field that was darker now that the sun had about set. “You lot starting the party without us?”

"Ron!” called Harry, walking to the edge of the lawn to greet his friend and his wife. “I wondered where you two were. Hello, Lavender.”

Pansy returned from the house, levitating a tray in front of her filled with glasses, and bottles each of firewhisky, champagne and sparkling cider.

“I thought some celebratory drinks might be in order,” she said, settling it down on a table near the fire and joining Harry to greet Ron and Lavender. Then she turned to Hermione and Luna. “I transfigured a couple of boxes into bassinets in James’ room if you want to put the boy’s down. Although I think it’s time I got to hold little Lucius. Hand him over, Malfoy.”

Ron looked at Neville, “Lucius? Who’s baby is that?”

“I’m as lost as you, mate.” The herbology professor looked around at group. “Can someone please explain what’s going on? Who’s having babies, where did that one come from and why is he named after Draco’s father?”

As Harry handed out tumblers of firewhisky to the men, he explained,

“That is Draco and Hermione’s son. They adopted him a couple weeks ago.”

Hermione took up the tale and told the story of how Luci came to be at the orphanage, which had Hannah and Lavender dabbing at their eyes. She concluded with, “And we found out today that I’m pregnant as well, so we will have two children less than a year apart.” 

This news sent the two witches who hadn’t yet heard, hurrying across the yard to hug her. Draco abandoned his spot next his wife to allow them to sit beside her, and joined Ron on his sofa, stretching out his legs toward the fire.

“So Weasley, how’s married life treating you?” he asked, sipping his drink. “You and Lav going to join Potter and me and have a kid soon?”

Ron looked at his best friend in surprise. Harry grinned at him. 

“Sorry, haven’t seen much of you and Lavender this summer. Malfoy’s right. Pansy is pregnant as well. She and Hermione are due at the same time. Beginning of April.”

Ron took a healthy sip from his own glass and looked across the fire to his wife of three months where she sat with Hermione and Hannah.

“Let’s have a toast, yeah? Ladies, who’s having champagne? I know it’s cider for Pansy and Hermione.” Harry popped open that bottle and poured two glasses.

“Cider for me, please, Harry,” said Luna.

“Champagne, please,” said Hannah. “Although you may have to apparate me home.” She winked at Neville.

“Lavender?” Harry asked.

The blonde hesitated and Ron said with a smile, “Go ahead, love, I know you like champagne. I’ll get you home.”

Lavender bit her lip, eyeing her friends. “No, it’s not that. Bloody hell, I wasn’t going to do this tonight, but I’m pregnant too. So no champagne for me.”

She looked at Ron. “I’m sorry. I wanted to do something special and tell you when we were alone. I didn’t think about drinks tonight.”

Her husband was staring at her, slack-jawed. Draco noticed he was loosening his grip on the tumblr of firewhisky and reached over to take it from his hand before it hit the ground. Everyone was silent; looking at Ron for his reaction. Lavender stood up and took a couple steps toward him.

“Ron?”

“A baby?” His blue eyes were wide.

His wife nodded, tears brimming in her eyes, although no one knew if they were tears of happiness or concern over his reaction. He stood now, too, and his long legs covered the distance between them in two strides. Cupping her face tenderly in his hands, he repeated, his face splitting with a grin of amazement.

“You’re having a baby?”

She nodded again, the action spilling the tears down her face. He wiped them away with his thumbs and pressed his lips to hers, then he engulfed her in his arms in a tight embrace and Lavender released a sob of relief and happiness. She hadn’t known what his reaction would be. They hadn’t really talked about children except in the long term and he’d made a few comments about enjoying the peace and quiet for a while since they both came from such large families where both commodities were scarce. 

Pansy cleared her throat to draw attention from the couple who were still standing in an embrace.

“Since we’re making announcements, I have something to say as well,” she said. 

Harry’s head snapped to look at her. She hadn’t said anything to him about wanting to tell their friends something. Pansy handed Luci back to Draco who tucked the sleeping baby back into the sling on his chest. Watching him, she bit back at smile and resisted a smart comment at how terribly domestic the pureblood former Slytherin, raised by houselves himself and had never touched a nappy until a few weeks ago looked, tending to his new son. Then she went to stand beside Harry and took his hand and addressed their former classmates.

“As you all know, Harry and I weren’t married in the traditional sense,” Pansy said. “Our magic knew it was time for us to be husband and wife.” She squeezed his hand. “He has offered to give me a wedding, and I told him I didn’t need one. But there is one thing I do need. And that is to give him a ring. He gave me one, but I haven’t had a chance to give him one. I want to do that now. In front of all of you and under the stars where magic bound us together.”

She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a thick simple band of goblin silver. It had an inscription inside but she would tell him that later. It glimmered in the firelight. Pansy took Harry’s left hand in hers and slipped it on the fourth finger of his left hand. Like hers, it magically fit itself to him.

“I love you, Harry.”

“I love you, Pansy.” Harry’s eyes glistened behind his glasses, and he pulled her into his arms to kiss her lovingly. Then he turned to looked at the group, keeping an arm around her waist. “Okay, anyone else have anything they want to share or announce or can we have a toast?”

Everyone assembled around the fire shook their heads and so he continued, after making sure everyone had a glass in their hand. 

“Right then. This little gathering of ours started out to celebrate Hermione’s birthday and has grown into an opportunity to celebrate the other things happening in our lives. This year, we have a lot to celebrate and to be thankful for. Instead of trying to list them all, I’ll just say let’s raise our glasses…..to us!”

“To us!” The words echoed around the fire as each person raised a glass.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Hermione’s Piano Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13674687) by [motherbearof3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherbearof3/pseuds/motherbearof3)




End file.
